Severance
by Braxin
Summary: An AU story, which diverges from the television series at the 4.3 episode, Home.
1. Chapter 1

— **Chapter 1—**

* * *

T'Pol entered her mother's house just as night fell. Three hours earlier, she'd told Commander Tucker that she intended to marry Koss, and told him why, but the man had walked away from her, and that act upset T'Pol much more than she could logically justify. In consequence, she'd spent the intervening time meditating on the Fire-Plains, finally gaining some semblance of control.

T'Les, her mother, was in the kitchen brewing tea, and the elder Vulcan gave T'Pol a questioning glance while gently shaking a teacup.

"Yes, please," said T'Pol and sat down on one of the two couches in the living room.

T'Les joined her daughter a few minutes later, taking her seat on the opposite couch, the tea cups and cast iron pot resting on the coffee table separating the couches.

"Let me guess," said T'Les. "You spoke with Commander Tucker, and you spoke of Koss."

"Am I so transparent?"

"You are to me, daughter," said T'Les. "I take it that your discussion did not go well."

"I do not see any way it could have gone well, mother."

T'Les remained silent for a time, discreetly watching T'Pol without seeming to do so. She had not seen her daughter so dejected and so seemingly lost since her husband, T'Pol's father, had suddenly disappeared out of their lives, forever, and finally T'Les had to speak.

"I know you can not see it now, T'Pol, but this is for the best in the long run."

"You are right, mother. I can not see it, but what must be, must be."

T'Les topped off both tea cups, laid the pot back down upon its cast iron trivet, and said, "You will see the logic of it, when you and Koss are Bonded."

"I have no intention of Bonding with Koss, mother," said T'Pol. "I agreed to be his mate, nothing more."

"The Bond is part of being mated, T'Pol," said T'Les crossly. "You are not only cheating Koss by denying the Bond, but cheating yourself as well."

"Be that as it may, mother, that is none of your business, so stay out of it," said T'Pol. "Last I heard, a mated couple's privacy still meant something on Vulcan."

And with that, T'Les had finally had enough. That her daughter's illogical nature should choose to assert itself so strongly now, when clear headed logic was most needed, was quite irritating, and more irritating still was T'Pol's unmitigated gall in bringing her Human lover home, as if an alien, any alien, would ever make as proper a mate as a Vulcan of Koss' breeding.

"You will do your duty, T'Pol," she said, fixing her gaze upon T'Pol. "Understand that for a fact!"

T'Les studied her daughter closely with a stern look which had frequently paralyzed T'Pol in her youth, but her daughter was made of sterner stuff now, and the foolish girl simply ignored that look, which just further irritated T'Les. Just then, their conversation was disrupted when Trip cleared his throat as he entered the living room, and though both of them looked back at him, Trip only had eyes for T'Pol.

"Join us for tea, Commander," said T'Pol, her voice betraying emotion, even by Human standards.

T'Les looked at T'Pol, and seemed troubled by whatever she saw in her daughter at that moment.

"Thanks, T'Pol, but I think I'll go back to the Fire-Plains. They're really something to see by daylight, must be impressive as hell by night."

"Let me shower and change, and I'll join you," said T'Pol.

"I'd like to go alone, T'Pol. I have some thinking to do. You do understand."

T'Pol nodded her head. Trip was right. She did understand.

"I do, Commander Tucker. I will see you when you return."

"Don't wait up, T'Pol. I'll probably stay there all night long."

"All night long?"

"Yeah, T'Pol. Who knows if I'll ever have the chance to return to Vulcan. The Fire-Plains are something I'd like to remember. I'll see you tomorrow."

The two Vulcans finished the remaining tea in silence.

"Should I brew another pot, T'Pol?"

"No, mother. I've had a long day. I am going to shower, then sleep," said T'Pol, though she suspected sleep would evade her through the night.

* * *

A bit later, Trip found a secluded spot a few dozen feet above the lava of the Fire-Plains, and he made himself comfortable on that spot.

Before the hire-car had dropped him off at the Fire-Plains, he'd asked the driver to swing by a Vulcan store where he'd bought a bottle of water and a data-node device with a translator app installed, which would allow him to scan the knowledge base of the Vulcan info-net, a planetary library and Internet rolled into one... and it was there, at the Fire-Plains, that Trip viewed the extensive data files documenting Vulcan mating rituals and the Bonding ceremony which culminated the entire process, learned of the rituals and their antiquity, learned of the psychic bonds between mates, and somewhere in that data Trip found a sense of hope.


	2. Chapter 2

— **Chapter 2—**

* * *

Much to her eventual surprise, T'Pol had apparently fallen asleep sometime in the night, and judging by the position of the sun when she woke, it was two hours past dawn. She rose, performed her morning stretching routine, after which she meditated for twenty minutes, and then dressed for the day.

T'Pol passed by the guest bedroom on the way to the kitchen, yet after passing it she reversed course and did a double take. The door was open and T'Pol saw that Commander Tucker had still not returned, for the bed was still as she'd made it the day before. Surely he wasn't still at the Fire-Plains! A sense of unease troubled her now.

"What if he's slipped and fallen into the lava?" thought T'Pol, and made way for the living room, where she found T'Les, seated on a couch and reading Valtek, an overrated poet in T'Pol's opinion.

"Good morning, T'Pol."

"Mother, I am concerned about Commander Tucker. He's been gone for quite a while. What if he fell—"

"Be at ease, T'Pol. He came in shortly after dawn, then washed off the dust of the lava-plains, changed clothes and left shortly thereafter. I gave him the entry code to the front door, so that he could come and go as he pleases."

"Where did he go?"

"I didn't ask, T'Pol. I did not wish to intrude on the man's privacy."

"He was well?"

"I don't know the man well enough to say, T'Pol, but he seemed to me, to be in strange mood."

"How so?"

"I don't know, T'Pol. He was just different. His emotions were so plain to read when I first met him. He was pleasant, he was trying to be funny—"

"Yes," said T'Pol, impatiently. "And now?"

"I don't know. He just seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn, perhaps more focused," said T'Les. "I couldn't hold his eyes, daughter, they pressed on me so. I tried to coax him with a pastry and some tea so that I could sound him out, but he refused both, and left the house. I suspect that he is trying to suppress emotion, T'Pol, but I do not know how successful he will be."

"Most unusual," said T'Pol, and she meant it, for Trip was generally as good natured as one of those canine quadrupeds which humans favored as pets, and although she'd seen him angry before, the conduct which T'Les described was uncharacteristic of the man, and so T'Pol resolved to speak with him again, upon his return.

"I don't know what to make of Commander Tucker," said T'Les, "but I will admit, despite my initial reaction, that I like him."

T'Pol was surprised at that, and T'Les picked up on it.

"It is true, T'Pol. But I still think that Koss is the best choice, the logical choice."

"Life is more than logic, mother."

"Perhaps for Humans, T'Pol, but not for us," said T'Les, waiting a bit for a response, but when T'Pol did not reply, T'Les moved on. "No matter, T'Pol, you may speak to him when he returns. Now we must find a proper dress for you to wear tomorrow."

* * *

Trip's first stop after leaving T'Les' house, was the shop of a nearby Vulcan tailor with favorable reviews for the skill with which he practiced his art. Though Trip's request was unusual given that this was the tailor's first Human customer, it was also a simple order. A few measurements, the proper fabrics chosen by the human, and a promise to deliver the finished product before the day was over, to an address not far off, and all for a fair price considering the rush and the delivery.

An hour later, the hire-car dropped Trip off in an area on the outskirts of town, an area dedicated to light industry. He quickly spotted the building he sought to enter, his eye drawn by the stunning gate, for it was made of wrought iron and copper entwined in an artistic fashion. He'd also read good reviews of this Vulcan craftsman's skills, but in this case, all that Trip required of this Vulcan was the use of his shop for a day. Withdrawing his StarFleet communicator he activated the Vulcan/English translator app, then struck the small brass gong that passed for a doorbell here, and a few moments later, the door was answered by an older Vulcan male.

"Varek," said the Vulcan after giving Trip a brief glance.

"I'm Tucker."

"I assumed as much," Varek said. "Come."

Varek led the way into the building, into his workshop and showed Trip to a small table. They sat and Varek poured the human some redweed tea.

"This is an impressive shop, Varek," as he sipped on his tea. "What do you do here?"

"Whatever comes my way, Tucker. This week I'm casting some large bronze doors for a public building, the week before it was a steel and wrought iron staircase for a wealthy merchant. Next week, who knows."

The two finished their first cup of tea while discussing Varek's business, and then Varek refilled their cups, and looked at Tucker meaningfully. The Human got the point, and came to the heart of the matter.

"You said you have the metals I need, Varek, the furnace, power hammer, files, polishing stones, all of it."

"I do indeed, Human. But before I turn you loose in my workshop, I will know your purpose."

Trip considered Varek's words for a moment, but he needed this man, and so he explained his purpose plainly, in one brief sentence.

"Interesting," said Varek, while Trip sipped tea. "Most interesting."

Trip waited for Varek to say more, and when Varek remained silent for a bit longer than expected, Trip said, "I can pay you well, Varek."

Varek looked at the Human for a while, then nodded.

"The madness is upon you, Tucker. I can see it in your eyes. I do not want your money. Let me watch as you do your work, and I will count that as my payment."

"Agreed, Varek," said Trip, and drained his teacup. "Let's get to it."


	3. Chapter 3

— **Chapter 3—**

* * *

T'Pol was meditating in her room when a noise from the front of the house drew her attention. She moved quickly for the living room, knowing that T'Les was already sleeping. It had to be Trip, and it was. Oddly enough, the man wore a plain, rust colored Vulcan robe, and in his left hand he carried a long, thin wooden box.

"What happened to your clothes, Commander Tucker?"

"It's a long story, T'Pol, and I'm tired. I'm off to bed now. Tomorrow is your wedding day, and I want to be rested."

"I must insist upon a few moments of your time, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, and when the man walked past her, she called out once more. "Trip! Please."

Trip stopped, sighed, and returned to the living room, where he sat on a couch. T'Pol sat across from him, studying the man... though he was usually so open with her, tonight he was clearly guarded. He smiled at her, but his eyes were cool and distant, the smile perfunctory.

"Mother was right," thought T'Pol. "There is something off about Trip tonight, but I suppose that is my fault."

"Where have you been, Commander Tucker? What happened to your clothes?"

"I needed a distraction, I needed to work with my hands, T'Pol," said Trip, "so I found a fellow craftsman and busied myself in his workshop. After a day's work of wear and tear, my clothes were ruined. The Vulcan I visited with today kindly offered me the use of his shower, and gifted me this robe, so I threw my clothes away."

"I see," said T'Pol. "A delivery service dropped a parcel off for you today. I placed it on your bed."

"Oh, thank you. I bought some clothes for tomorrow's wedding," said Trip. "I'll be wearing a Vulcan ceremonial robe over my clothing, so I doubt T'Les will complain, and I'll feel more comfortable."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "T'Les will not complain. What is in the box?"

"A walking stick. It's an old Earth custom for at least one guest to carry one. Brings good luck on the wedding day. In any case, I slipped and fell on the Fire-Plains and my leg is killing me, and so the stick will serve a practical purpose as well."

"A stick. You have a walking stick in that case?"

"Yes," said Trip.

"May I see it, Commander Tucker?"

"Really?"

"Yes, please."

"OK, but don't touch it, it's bad luck," said Trip. "Leave it in the box."

It was, T'Pol saw, just as Trip had said, a walking stick somewhere in the neighborhood of forty inches long. Plain wood, though with an elegant curve to it, polished to a gloss, but still a stick, and still nothing to write home about, as a Human would say. T'Pol felt silly now. Why had she felt so uneasy over what Trip might have in that box when she'd first set eyes on him? Perhaps it was just his unexpected appearance, or perhaps it was just the stress of tomorrow's upcoming ceremony.

"I recognize that wood, Commander Tucker. It's Vulcan Ironwood, but there's not much demand for it. The ebony color is pretty enough, but the wood is rich in oils, so it is impossible to keep clean, everything just sticks to it. Those same oils give it a tacky surface, you know?"

"I know, T'Pol. I carved the wood. I handled it."

"Vulcans do not like sticky surfaces in wood, Commander Tucker. About the only commercial uses for this wood are the handles of chef's knives, and occasionally, musical instruments. Woodwinds mostly."

"Tell me more, T'Pol. Perhaps you'd like to speak to me of the Vulcan nightingale next?"

"Do not be silly. There is no such thing as a Vulcan nightingale, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "Perhaps you are thinking of the Vulcan warbler, which is…"

T'Pol suddenly realized how silly she sounded, and she sighed, then looked at Trip, and here, in privacy, she allowed her eyes to linger on the man at length. He noticed her gaze, smiled warmly, and for a brief time he was back to his old self, and all was well. It was a very brief time. Within a minute, T'Pol's mind returned to their predicament, and her emotions raged as she looked at Trip, her thoughts bitter.

"I don't want Koss! I want you!" thought T'Pol. "Why can't we have this one thing, this one good thing to share together, after all our suffering in the Expanse! Why?!"

"It's all right, T'Pol. Perhaps things will work out for the best tomorrow."

"What? What did you say?" said T'Pol, quite startled, for it seemed as if Commander Tucker had literally heard her thoughts.

His guarded look was back, and Trip said, "You seemed troubled, T'Pol. I only expressed my hope that things work out for the best."

That answer made sense, for T'Pol. Unlike the rest of Enterprise's crew, Trip had always read her moods clearly, regardless of her stoic demeanor, almost from the beginning of her time aboard that ship.

"Oh, of course," said T'Pol. "I really do wish things had worked out differently, Trip. You have to believe me."

Trip nodded, and stood. "I do, T'Pol. I suppose that all of it is just something we both have to live with."

The Vulcan nodded, and then lowered her head in silent despair.

"Well, I should turn in. Good night, T'Pol."

When T'Pol said nothing in return, when she would not raise her eyes to meet his, Trip studied T'Pol, something about the Vulcan's demeanor troubling him. He moved to stand in front of her, then knelt to the floor. He reached out, raised her face to his, and when he did so he was startled. Tears ran down T'Pol's face, and in her eyes despair. For a Vulcan, such a display was tantamount to a Human's emotional breakdown.

Trip drew T'Pol off the couch and onto the floor, where he kissed her tears away and afterward tasted her lips for the better part of an hour, but T'Pol was inconsolable. Trip would have felt that same despair, but he had a measure of hope now, and so he simply held T'Pol tightly and dared to dream of better days to come. Eventually, exhausted and worn out, T'Pol fell asleep in his arms, and Trip fell asleep soon after.

It was thus that T'Les found them the next morning, and the sight of their entwined forms troubled the Vulcan. T'Pol had nestled herself into Tucker as closely as possible, while the man's left arm was draped across her shoulders, comforting her. It was clear that T'Pol had cried herself to sleep, and that in itself was shocking, but what troubled T'Les just now was the fact that she'd never seen T'Pol as content as she seemed to be right now, with her her head resting on this Human's chest, and for the first time since this matter had all begun, T'Les wondered if she'd done the right thing in pressuring T'Pol to Bond with Koss.


	4. Chapter 4

— **Chapter 4—**

* * *

The wedding day was here now, and T'Les took stock of the situation with a critical eye. T'Pol had regained her composure, at least on the surface, but Tucker was practically ice cold in his demeanor, such was his detachment, so much so that he made the Vulcans seem a warm and gregarious people by comparison, and T'Les knew by now that this was not typical of the man's behavior... no matter, all this would be over soon, after which events would follow a logical course for them all.

Still, Commander Tucker cut a good figure in his ceremonial Vulcan robes, and his communicator was equipped with a Vulcan/English translator app, and it was clipped to his robes, so he'd be able to follow the ritual ceremony easily enough through his earpiece, if he cared to do so. Now, eager to make one last check of everything, T'Les put Tucker out of her mind and moved on to attend the other guests: members of T'Pol's clan were here, as were members of Koss's clan, official dignitaries... even Ambassador Soval was in attendance due to his professional association with T'Pol, and he'd brought the Human Admiral Ryan along with him to witness a Vulcan Bonding ceremony.

As for the ceremony, it would shortly be performed in this attractive circular hall set aside for just this purpose, a part of the Kless Montau temple. It was a bit bare by Human standards, simply equipped with a round black granite dais at one end of the room, separated by twenty feet of empty space from a series of backless benches, neatly laid out in rows to accommodate the guests viewing the ceremony... still, the stone walls were carved in decorative motifs, and the numerous lanterns scattered throughout this hall gave the chamber a warm and inviting feel. Certainly Trip found it impressive enough, though he was largely focused on more important things...

"Commander Tucker."

Trip turned to see Varek drawing closer, the Vulcan dressed in his best robes.

"Varek," said Trip. "You look quite imposing."

"Thank you. I hope that you don't mind, Commander, but I told the doormen that we were the Vulcan equivalent of friends, in order to be allowed inside."

"I don't mind, Varek, but what is the Vulcan equivalent of friends?"

"Colleagues, Tucker."

"Good to know, Varek, my valued colleague. Now, what brings you here?"

"If it matters to you, the entire Bonding ceremony is considered public domain and recorded from the time the Executor first takes the dais," said Varek, pointing out a number of discreet cameras, "but I wished to personally witness something never before been seen on Vulcan – when I say never before seen, I am speaking of another species being involved in this type of ritual."

"I understood your meaning, Varek," said Trip. "How common is this ritual among Vulcans?"

"These days? Relatively rare. I'm aware of five in the past decade on all of Vulcan, but the numbers go up occasionally. In the old days it was quite common."

Trip was about to ask another question of Varek, when he heard his name called out once again. It was Ambassador Soval, and Trip gave the man a slight bow of the head.

"It is agreeable to see you here, Commander Tucker," said Soval. "You are a long way from home."

"Yes, I am," said Trip. "Ambassador, allow me to present my colleague, Varek."

Varek nodded casually to Soval, who returned the gesture in the same manner.

"Varek, this is Ambassador Soval," said Trip, looking at Varek. "He is posted to Vulcan's Embassy on Earth, and our paths have crossed repeatedly in the past few years."

"Indeed they have," said Soval, who then turned to Varek. "And how do you come to know Commander Tucker, Varek?"

Trip looked sharply at Varek, but he needn't have worried, for that Vulcan was no fool. Neither was Soval, who caught the look, but didn't understand its meaning.

"Tucker has an interest in Vulcan metalcraft," said Varek to Soval, "while I was curious about Human skills in that same domain. We collaborated on a project yesterday, and found it mutually enriching."

"Is that so?" said Soval.

With his contacts in the government it wouldn't take Soval long to figure out precisely who this Varek was, were he truly curious. Truthfully though, Soval didn't suspect any foul play from Tucker, but there were some strange dynamics at play here, between the Human and the Vulcan Varek.

"It is well that you've developed such a fast friendship with Varek, Commander Tucker, given that you've only been on Vulcan a few days," said Soval. "Another of your friends is here as well. Admiral Ryan is around here. I believe he just stepped out to take a call."

Trip was about to respond, but the Executor, an old Vulcan male, stepped up onto the dais and called out for attention.

"Places, everyone. Take your places."

The body of Vulcans, about a hundred in all, made their way to the benches, and Trip joined them, Varek by his side.

The Executor was soon joined atop the dais by Koss, in some white ceremonial robes, and T'Pol, in a lovely purple dress, and the attention of the entire assemblage was immediately focused on the three Vulcans standing on the dais as the Executor began speaking his part of the ritual, even as Trip's comm did its job of translation, and relayed the Executor's words to the man's ear piece.

At the appropriate point in the ritual, Trip stood.

A hundred or so nonplussed Vulcans watched the Human walk towards the dais, only the three Vulcans standing on the dais still unaware of his actions. Trip stopped ten feet from the dais, and finally caught the Executor's attention.

"Return to your seat, Human," said the Executor sternly. "This is a sacred ritual you are witnessing. Do not debase this ritual, or yourself."

Koss and T'Pol had turned to face Trip, and while Koss's expression was inscrutable, T'Pol was pale-faced and visibly shaken by Trip's actions. She'd not expected this, and she had no clue what Trip's actions heralded, but she knew they boded ill, because she knew Commander Tucker... she should have known he'd never roll over and accept all this without a gesture: but what did he have in mind? No Human arguments would work, no emotional appeals... it was all useless here.

The Executor spoke again: "Don't make me throw you out, Human!"

Trip knelt gracefully, legs folded beneath his buttocks. He laid the stick he'd carried to this ceremony to his left, and after a second's pause he brought his hands forward, then his torso, in a low bow to the dais. A few seconds later he straightened his torso, to look again at the dais.

A sense of panic flooded T'Pol, for the Vulcan had a sudden premonition, and she shook her head, then said, "No!"

Still seated, Trip lifted the stick from his left side, brought it to the front and held it chest high. Then, with his right hand, he grasped that end and pulled, revealing seventeen inches of cold steel, as he drew a nicely curved sword partly from its scabbard.

Looking at the three Vulcans on the dais, Trip said, "Kal-If-Fee!"


	5. Chapter 5

**—Chapter 5—**

* * *

Had an Andorian battleship materialized in the midst of a gathering of Vulcans, it would have hardly stunned them more than witnessing a Human invoking the ancient challenge for his Vulcan love. Still, this was a Vulcan crowd and the agitation was controlled.

The Executor was the first to remember his purpose. He raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. Looking at Tucker, the Executor spoke.

"Such a thing has never happened before, Human."

A voice from the crowd called out, "What right does an alien have to invoke the Kal-If-Fee, Executor?"

The Executor merely looked at the Human for an answer, and raised an eyebrow, curious to see how well the man had thought this matter through.

"The laws regulating the ritual do not specify the species of any of the participants, as you are surely aware, Executor," said Trip. "I know, I checked. It may have been an oversight, but by Vulcan tradition, and law, the written overrides the spoken, or the implied. Even if that law is changed tomorrow, I have made my challenge today."

"The Human is correct," said the Executor.

"This can not stand, Executor," said Soval. "While I applaud Commander Tucker's courage, he faces severe handicaps. It is well known that Vulcans are stronger than Humans, by and large. Factor in the lower concentration of oxygen in our atmosphere, and Commander Tucker is not issuing a challenge, he is committing suicide."

"That is not your concern, Soval," said Tucker, spinning neatly on the balls of his feet to face Soval. "It is my life to guard, or throw away, and my obstacles are not proper grounds for dismissing my challenge."

The Executor nodded his agreement with Tucker, and said so: "He is correct."

Soval looked at Admiral Ryan, who was seated next to him, and Ryan stood to address Trip.

"Stand down, Commander Tucker. Withdraw your challenge."

"I will not, sir."

"That was not a request, Commander Tucker. It was a direct order from a superior officer."

Though Ryan's presence had not been anticipated, Trip would not be denied.

"I resign my commission," said Trip. "StarFleet is organized on the basis of voluntary association, unless the rules which bind us have changed overnight, and I am well within my rights to resign. We're done speaking now, sir."

Ryan sighed in frustration for he was fond of Trip and wasn't looking forward to seeing him hacked apart as part of some alien ritual, but he was out of options, and so the admiral took his seat.

The Executor turned to Trip and said, "Human. What is your name?"

Trip spun back around to face the Executor, and said, "Charles Tucker, sir."

"I have never met a Human before, Tucker, nor have I made any efforts to do so. I see now that has been my loss."

Trip inclined his head as a gesture of appreciation for the Executor's words.

"I affirm Tucker's right to make the challenge," said the Executor, who then looked to Koss. "Koss, you must accept the challenge or surrender the female."

Koss looked at Tucker in silence. There was no fear in Koss, and clearly, there was no fear in Tucker.

"Although this Human will soon die at my hands," thought Koss, "it is proper for me to understand my opponent."

"Tell me, Tucker," said Koss, "what drives you to this act of madness?"

Every Vulcan gathered here expected a lengthy emotional declaration, but Tucker answered Koss in one short sentence.

"She is my suli-a."

Given that water had always been the most valuable commodity on Vulcan, its people had many words to describe that most precious substance. Suli-a described a reliable spring from a source deep underground, and a suli-a's waters were cool, crystal clear and pure. In ancient times, before technology allowed for the extraction of water from aquifers deep underground, ongoing bloody skirmishes which could last for years had been fought for the possession of a single suli-a, and it was telling of Tucker, that he expressed his sentiments in a restrained manner worthy of a Vulcan, yet one still more than adequate to describe the strength of his longing.

Koss, nodded thoughtfully, and said, "I honor your sentiments, Tucker, but I will not yield that which was always mine. I accept your challenge."

"The challenge has been made, and accepted," said the Executor. "The contestants have a time to refresh themselves in preparation for the coming struggle."

Trip nodded towards the dais in acceptance, stood and walked towards the refreshment tables as the assembled Vulcans broke apart in small groups to discuss the unbelievable turn this day's events had taken... and as soon as the Executor stepped off the dais, T'Pol spun round, looking for Trip in the crowd. Koss grabbed T'Pol by the arm and spoke to her. She said something in return, her demeanor icy, and Koss removed his hand.

As T'Pol walked off the dais, T'Les approached T'Pol, and said, "I would speak with you, daughter."

"You are not the one I wish to speak with at this moment, mother," said T'Pol, and walked past her mother.

T'Les sighed. It was apparent to any Vulcan that T'Pol was perturbed, but to T'Les, who knew her daughter best, it seemed that T'Pol was almost frantic, as she searched for Commander Tucker.

Meanwhile, Trip had grabbed a bottle of water off the refreshment table and found a quiet alcove to await the beginning of the contest, and respectfully, the Vulcans gave Trip the privacy needed to prepare himself for to struggle to come... all save one. It was there that T'Pol found him sitting on a granite bench, legs crossed, sword on his lap, his back leaning against the wall. T'Pol said nothing as she sat next to Trip, words failing her for the moment.

He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat, for his guarded demeanor of the past few days was gone and he was back to his old self.

T'Pol knew that since his plan was out in the open now, the man no longer saw the need to distance himself from her and it felt wonderful. When Trip had issued his challenge T'Pol had been elated... and mortified. Elated that he felt for her what she felt for him, elated that by his actions he had declared the strength of his feelings for her, to her personally, as well as to all of Vulcan by proxy, elated that he meant to claim her as his own, even at the risk of his own life... but that was also the source of her despair. Trip would die here at Koss's hands, and he would die for her. That could not be allowed, and it pained T'Pol to now destroy her love's heart, in order to preserve his life.

"You are making a mistake here, Commander Tucker. I do not wish to be bonded to a Human."

"Ok."

"I am serious, Commander Tucker. I do not wish to be mated to a Human."

"Yeah, I get it, and I don't blame you, T'Pol. We're all bad, but I'm a freaking disaster."

"Commander Tucker, you do not seem to understand my words. I am telling you that I do not care for you, I do not love you. You are risking your life needlessly."

"I know," said Trip.

"You… You are not a Vulcan! I am not bound to honor the outcome of this challenge, even if you win!"

"Actually, you are bound to honor the outcome of the challenge," said Trip with a wicked grin, "but don't worry, it's not like I'm going to drag you off to a cave on Earth. You can run and I won't stop you, T'Pol, but deep down in your little black Vulcan heart, you'll always know you belong to me, and that's gonna sting, baby!"

"Oh, Trip," thought T'Pol, "let that happen, win this challenge, and you can drag me to the dankest cave on Earth. I will not complain, even when my mold allergies kick in!"

Still, frustrated for she could see her words were ineffective, T'Pol decided to change tack.

"I wager that I could break one, or both, of your arms if I try," said T'Pol. "If you can not fight, the Executor will declare you unfit to challenge Koss."

"The Executor can not stop the ritual now, not without my consent, T'Pol. I will insist on fighting even if you break my arms, and when I lose, you and Koss can be together… forever," said Trip, twisting the knife with that last bit. "Anyway, I know what you're doing, T'Pol, so you can stop now."

Never had T'Pol felt so helpless, yet Trip was right, and her second gambit had failed as well. She sighed and accepted what had to be.

Her eyes wandered to the sword on his lap. It had been clever of Commander Tucker, to sheath the blade in a hilt and scabbard of plain wood, and in doing so conceal his purpose from all, herself included. Now his choice of the oil rich, sticky, wood made sense. His grip would be nearly as good as a custom hilt and his cover story for bringing the stick to the bonding ceremony had been plausible, if fraudulent. Grudgingly, T'Pol admitted he had done well so far.

"I have many questions, Commander Tucker, such as how you found a Human sword on Vulcan, because I know you didn't bring it with you. But that's not important right now. Do you even know how to use this blade?"

Trip nodded.

"I spent six years in Japan, T'Pol, right after high school. Other than my university work, I spent much of my time studying kenjutsu," said Trip, tapping the scabbard, "and jujutsu, an unarmed combat style. I was not worthy of my sensei's attention, a man who'd spent his life in the pursuit of the martial techniques of his clan, but I was not a complete failure."

T'Pol had noticed in the past that Trip was generally modest about his impressive technical expertise, so when he'd said, just now, that he was not a complete failure, T'Pol knew it meant he was competent, probably very competent. Still…

"The challenge is fought with Vulcan weapons, Trip."

"The law speaks only of armed combat, T'Pol. It says nothing of what those weapons must be, " said Trip. "Again, it's an oversight because none of your people thought that an alien might make use of your laws to challenge for a mate, but I'm sure the Executor will agree with me and follow law, rather than tradition."

"And if he does not?"

"Then I will do my best."

"You seem to have an answer for everything today, Trip," said T'Pol, "so tell me this. What am I to do if you are killed today?"

"You get some practice suppressing emotion in the short term, but that will pass in time."

"Do not be ridiculous, Commander Tucker. It will not pass."

"It will, T'Pol."

"Do not make light of this, Trip. If you die today, it will destroy me."

"T'Pol, I know your mind-priests have the ability to suppress your emotions, or suppress your memories of me. If I'm cut down, it would be logical to make use of their abilities."

T'Pol looked shocked at the suggestion, and said, "Never!"

Trip was surprised at T'Pol's vehemence and raised his hands in a manner meant to placate T'Pol.

"We can just leave, Commander Tucker, " said T'Pol, a few moments later, her voice controlled once again. "I will go with you. They will not try to stop us. Come, let's go."

"I will not shame you like that, T'Pol," said Trip, and when T'Pol began to protest he cut her off deliberately. "You were willing to marry a man you don't love in order to repair the damage your actions have done your mother, T'Pol. A Vulcan solution, to a Vulcan problem. I want you as wife, T'Pol, but I want to do it the Vulcan way. I want you to be able to hold your head up, T'Pol, without being shamed for me, or because of me."

"Even if it kills you."

"Even if it kills me."

T'Pol thought for a moment, then said, "As you know I served as a member of some special units in the past. Part of our training was how to commit suicide in order to avoid capture and subsequent torture. If you fail, I will make use of that training and join you in death, shortly after you fall."

"Don't do that, T'Pol," said Trip, knowing that she meant it.

"It is my life to guard, or throw away," said T'Pol, tossing his own line back at him: she'd always been good at doing just that. "In any case, it is a fairly painless procedure. Much less painful than what you will feel, if Koss cuts you down."

"Still, I'd rather you didn't, T'Pol."

"I know now that you are meant to be my mate, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, eyes shining with emotion, for she would never have imagined that she'd have the strength to reveal her emotions to Commander Tucker: but the man's courage to stake his claim for her gave T'Pol the courage to open her own heart to him. "I will not accept Koss, I will not accept any but you. If you were cut down here today and I left Vulcan, my mating time would eventually come anyway and find me without a mate, and then the Blood-Fever would then kill me in a most unpleasant manner. Better I follow you into the grave today, on my own terms, after Koss cuts you down."

"Oh, brother," said Trip, "you're a hell of an optimist, T'Pol. Ok, it sounds like I need to win here today, for both of us."

"You do."

Trip reached for T'Pol's hand and brought it to his lips, kissed her open palm and then lowered the hand but kept hold of it, as they sat in silence. What more could be said? Somewhere in the hall, a gong was struck loudly, three times.

"All parties are being summoned, Trip," said T'Pol, visibly agitated by the sound.

Trip stood and T'Pol followed his lead. Safe from prying eyes in this alcove, Trip reached out for T'Pol and kissed her deeply. When they parted, T'Pol's eyes were moist, but she was being strong for him. He caressed T'Pol's cheek with the back of his hand.

"I have to go, T'Pol."

"I know. I will need a few moments to compose myself."

Trip nodded, and turned to leave the alcove.

"Trip!"

The man stopped in his tracks, but did not turn around.

"I love you," said T'Pol, and her voice trembled.

"I know," said Trip, before he left the alcove.


	6. Chapter 6

— **Chapter 6—**

* * *

By the time that Trip had made his way back to the appointed place, the benches had been removed from the chamber, and the Vulcan witnesses lined the walls, leaving a broad swath of space open in the middle for the two combatants. Moments later, the Executor took his place among the Vulcans, and he was joined a minute later, by T'Pol. The Executor spoke briefly with T'Pol, and she made some sort of reply, after which both T'Pol and the Executor waited in silence.

From her vantage point, T'Pol watched Trip as he stripped the Vulcan robes he'd worn for the Bonding ceremony, only to stand in some manner of clothing which she'd never seen him wear before on the Enterprise. She recognized the loose sleeved dark blue robe as a kimono, but Trip wore it tucked into what seemed to be an odd pair of pants, for they fit snugly at the waist, then flared out towards the bottom. She'd actually seen Hoshi's father wear something similar once, and Hoshi had named those pants as hakama. Now, using a cord, Trip pulled up and tied the loose sleeves, freeing up his range of movement, and then knelt as before, closed his eyes and focused his mind on the coming struggle... and the gathered Vulcans, T'Pol among them, were impressed by the calmness this Human was displaying, genuine or feigned.

Koss watched the Human as well. Tucker had been allowed to retain his sword as his weapon for the match, and after looking shrewdly at the Human's blade, Koss walked to the weapons rack and after a moment's deliberation chose what looked to be a cross between a sword and a polearm. Roughly 30 inches of a double-edged straight blade, atop thirty inches of hilt, this was the Vulcan aja. With that selection behind him, Koss walked some twenty feet away from the Human, and waited patiently. A few minutes later, a gong was struck, and all saw Tucker rise gracefully from his kneeling pose. The time had come. The gong was struck again, and then once more.

"Begin," said the Executor.

Koss stepped forward, aja held at midpoint, the Vulcan intending to make full use of his weapon's extra length. Tucker had still not drawn his sword, though his left hand steadied the scabbard, while the right rested lightly on the hilt. The Human walked directly at Koss, as if he had no care in the world.

Koss thrust straight for Tucker's heart, but Tucker slid back with the grace of a cobra, and the point missed its mark by a ten inches or so. The two circled each other once again, Koss searching for a killing stroke, Tucker waiting for an opening. Koss eventually made a feint, then twirled the aja to further mislead Tucker as to its intended trajectory, for he finally raised it high and then brought the aja down in a vicious sky to ground cut that should have killed Tucker instantly, but the Human sidestepped, and the blade missed its mark, ending up in a low position. Quickly transitioning from that missed strike, Koss brought the blade up in a diagonal slash meant to disembowel Tucker.

It was here that something unprecedented happened, for just before Koss' diagonal slash upwards, Trip heard T'Pol shout a warning in despair, for she'd anticipated Koss' maneuver... but T'Pol had been in Trip's line of sight, behind Koss, and she had made no movements, shouted no warning.

Still, the aja's blade had caught some part of Tucker. There was blood on the blade's tip, and Trip's kimono was slashed but it wasn't a disabling cut, for as soon as the blade passed the center line of his body, Trip stepped forward and drew his blade in one blindingly fast movement, to hack viciously at Koss's forearm, and only the fact that Koss dropped his grip with that hand allowed the Vulcan to keep the hand. In response, Koss twirled the weapon and then brought his blade back in a horizontal cut meant to slash into Tucker's torso, but Trip threw himself away from Koss, rolling away from the aja's blade, then rising quickly to his feet to face the Vulcan, Trip's sword blade held before him in a two handed grip, twenty nine inches of razor sharp steel atop a twelve inch hilt.

Even in his hyper-focused state, Trip felt T'Pol's panic, just barely held at bay, and he found it distracting. Here, the research he'd done days earlier paid off, for Trip recognized that the Bond was at work here, crazy as that idea would have seemed at any other time. Oddly enough, T'Pol seemed unaware of this connection... but then he was undoubtedly the more focused of them both, at the current time.

Emboldened by his seeming success and the sight of Tucker's blood, Koss charged again, with a neat three thrust combo, and T'Pol's fear flashed through Trip's mind again, but rather than stepping back, Tucker stepped aside and struck low at Koss, before slipping away much too quickly for Koss to bring his longer, heavier, blade into play. It was a good exchange for Trip, as he'd given Koss a nasty cut to the calf.

T'Pol's emotions were on overdrive now, no matter how collected she seemed on the surface, and so acting instinctually , for the reading he'd done had made no mention of how to manipulate the Bond, Trip sent his intent through the Bond to T'Pol. Telepathic communication was much more efficient than verbal, for it was compressed. T'Pol received Trip's sending in a fraction of a second, though her mind interpreted the sending as a series of sensations: she actually felt Trip's distraction as her panic flooded him, then T'Pol felt her own horror at the thought that she was causing her mate to lose focus, now, of all times... and then that thought was closely followed by the wonder of it all, that she and Trip were now mated, for the existence of the Bond was prima facie evidence of that fact. Next, she felt Trip's joy, and heard his voice.

—We have an active Bond, my love. Control your fears.

Swept away by their connection, T'Pol felt the pain he disregarded now, sensed his grim determination to win, to win her, for her, for them, and then, in his turn Trip felt her amazement, and then her elation through the Bond as she received his sending and realized its nature. Instantly, T'Pol clamped down on her emotions... all that she allowed through now was an endless support.

The game went on, and both combatants were breathing hard now.

Tucker had been more economical in his movements up till now, but he labored under Vulcan's heat and gravity. Koss was not thus handicapped, but he'd been much more aggressive, his movements explosive, and demanding on his energy reserves. He'd hoped to make a quick kill and a statement of Vulcan superiority in the process, but the Human was surprisingly resilient, and the cuts which Koss had received from the Human's sword were feeling numb now.

They took stock of each other now, as they launched a series of probing attacks and feints, each looking for weakness in the other, and in the process Koss managed to catch Tucker with a good strike to the ribcage with the hilt of his weapon, and Koss could tell that the Human felt it. He suspected that a couple of Tucker's ribs were fractured, but the Human showed no sign of weakness, and in return for that blow, he'd raked the edge of his blade against Koss's thigh on the way out. Though unable to make a proper cut, what he did was enough to cause Koss additional pain and blood loss.

Things were getting desperate for them both now.

It frustrated Koss, the way this Human fought, for he consistently avoided Koss's superior strength, redirected the force of Vulcan's attacks rather than expending energy trying to block them, stepping aside, stepping back, moving like a fucking dancer. Exhaustion was getting to both of them though, and once crisp, clean, focused movements had become looser, slower, and sloppier even as recovery times had more than tripled. Yet somehow Koss managed to knock the sword from Tucker's hands, and he thought to step on it and shatter it, but he never got the chance because Tucker slammed his knee in Koss's groin, and then slammed his forehead into Koss' eye socket.

Bellowing like a mad bull, Koss let go his aja and grabbed Tucker, forcing him to the ground, the aja trapped uselessly between them. Still, Koss knew he had Tucker in trouble now, by virtue of his superior strength and position atop Tucker, but Tucker wrapped his legs around Koss, in a seemingly ludicrous attempt to restrain Koss as the Vulcan began raining blows on Tucker from above, as the struggle continued towards a finale which only one of them would survive.

Even with his advantage, Koss was frustrated now, for Tucker used his hips, thighs and feet to push back on Koss, using that leverage to rob Koss' blows of power. The Human had absorbed some blows, was bloodied and strained, but he wasn't panicking, and that wasn't right. It was only when the Human attempted to lock in some type of submission hold on the Vulcan's arm, that Koss realized he was in more danger now than when using weapons, for Koss had not trained in grappling. Only his superior strength allowed him to disengage from the Human and Koss backed off Tucker and rushed for his aja. By that time Tucker had already regained his feet and his sword and the two faced each other once more, and to his displeasure, Koss realized he'd spent more energy on the ground than Tucker, who was breathing noticeably easier than Koss.

And then Koss realized that his arm had been damaged in Tucker's submission attempt. He didn't know to what extent, but it was hard to get a solid grip on the shaft of his aja, and he knew he had to finish it soon. On the other hand Tucker was having trouble seeing out of his right eye, blood dripping freely down his face from a forehead wound he'd acquired when he'd head-butted Koss, and on top of their previous wounds and their fatigue, they were both in desperate straits.

Tucker must have thought the same for he came at Koss in a rush to finish him, but bad luck, or fatigue, or both, caused the Human to stumble badly, heading for Koss in a clumsy sprawl. Koss saw the opening and committed his last energy reserves to a vicious thrust meant to go through Tucker's torso, and ensure his victory... but at the last second, Tucker regained control, did one of his controlled spins and hacked at Koss.

The Vulcan felt the strike on his bicep and he knew instantly that he was done. The stumble had been a trick designed to trigger a strike. It was a risky move which depended on perfect timing, but it had worked beautifully, and Koss fell to his knees as blood poured from the severed stump of an arm. Tucker said something to him, something which Koss could not understand, for his world was closing in on him... then Tucker brought his sword down on Koss at an angle from on high, removing Koss' head, neck and part of the left shoulder from his body.

The Vulcans had been respectfully silent through this entire spectacle, but now there was a palpable air of awe at the courage displayed by both combatants, as well as the sheer ferocity of the primal struggle. Trip flicked his sword in an odd manner now, and Koss' blood flew from the blade, after which Trip knelt painfully, facing Koss' body, and then Trip kowtowed to the Vulcan. A moment later Trip stood and gathered his scabbard from the sidelines. He sheathed the blade and walked slowly towards T'Pol and the Executor, for he knew this thing was not over until that official spoke, and affirmed that the combat had been honorable, the outcome just, and T'Pol now properly his.

"It is done," said the Executor, "honorably done."

Trip sighed with relief, and after a moment's pause the Executor looked at T'Pol.

"You belong to Tucker now, as property or mate, whichever he wills."

T'Pol bowed her head.

"Yes, Executor," said T'Pol, and Trip felt her endless delight at either prospect through the Bond, followed closely by such an abundance of joy and love, the depth of which he'd never suspected could possibly exist beneath that cool Vulcan exterior.


	7. Chapter 7

— **Chapter 7—**

* * *

Trip regained consciousness slowly, and opened his eyes to find himself in what seemed to be a hospital room. The events of his recent past came rushing to him and then he breathed a heavy sigh of relief at his victory, regret at the necessity of killing Koss, and elation at the thought of the prize, which was a new life with T'Pol by his side. Just then, an attractive Vulcan female, which this species seemed capable of cranking out at will, entered the room.

"Ah, you're awake, Commander Tucker. Good," she said in standard English, then started monitoring his stats and making some notations. "I'm Melia, your nurse."

"Hi, Melia," said Trip. "Where am I?"

"Ashla Medical. A hospital."

"What happened to me?" said Trip.

"You were brought in here unconscious, yesterday," said Mella. "A combination of dehydration and heat exhaustion knocked you out once your adrenalin level returned to normal."

"What's my condition?"

"You are in good condition, Commander Tucker," said Melia as she took Trip's vital signs. "You were sedated overnight, and hydrated. You've taken a beating but you're over the worst of it. You'll be released sometime after lunch. It will take a couple of weeks for your pain and your bruises to disappear, unless you go through a regeneration protocol which will shorten the time required for healing."

Melia waited for the human to ask the obvious question, but when he said nothing, Melia spoke up.

"If you're wondering about your mate—"

"I'm not, Melia," said Trip, "I can feel her presence nearby, and I can tell that she's well."

"Ah," said Melia. "We, the medical staff, weren't sure if you were Bonded, if it was even possible… She hasn't left your side since you were brought in, but her mother brought you each some clothes, and persuaded T'Pol to refresh herself. We sent her to the nurse's showers since she didn't want to use yours, and disturb your rest."

"You grasp of English is impressive, Melia."

"Thank you. I served in a medical capacity in Vulcan's San Francisco embassy for five years."

"Did you enjoy the city?"

"I did, especially the food and the ocean," said Melia, fluffing up Trip's pillow. "You will be surprised to hear that there is a vibrant Asian food scene on Vulcan now. Vegetarian dishes only, of course, given our dietary restrictions. The ocean sports, unfortunately, we can not replicate."

Trip smiled, charmed by Melia's chatter, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of Vulcans in general.

"I'm finished for now, Commander Tucker," said Melia. "If you need anything, press that button. Lunch will be served in an hour."

"Thank you, Melia."

Moments after Melia had left the room, Trip closed his eyes and reached out for T'Pol, only to be surprised at how easily he perceived his mate's presence in his mind. T'Pol was in a shower, somewhere to his left, somewhere within two hundred feet. She knew that he was conscious now, and she was excited to see him. Wanting to spruce himself up a bit before he saw T'Pol, Trip stood, and groaned. He felt like shit, and looking at the mirror Trip realized that his feelings were an accurate gauge of his condition. Still, he showered, shaved and dressed in his own clothes, and that made him feel better. He felt T'Pol's growing excitement as she neared his room, and then felt a flash of sudden annoyance through the Bond. Amused, Trip assumed that T'Pol's displeasure was due to that fact that she didn't find him in bed, resting properly, however when he opened the door, he was surprised to find Admiral Ryan speaking with T'Pol.

"Admiral," said Trip. "An unexpected surprise."

Now he understood T'Pol's frustration, for she'd hoped to find him alone. He winked at her, amused at her frustration.

"Good to see you're still with us, Commander Tucker."

"Thank you, sir, but you can call me Trip, all things considered."

"What things?"

"I disobeyed a direct order. Resigned my commission. Those kinds of things tend to put a cramp in one's career."

"I don't remember any of that, Commander Tucker, but than you've suffered several blows to the head during your ah… endeavor."

"Well, that's lucky for me," said Trip. "Unfortunately, StarFleet regulations will not allow T'Pol and I to serve on the same ship and I will not be separated from my wife."

Trip felt T'Pol's agreement and a mental nod, which was an odd sensation.

"I've thought of that, Commander, and communicated my concerns to HQ. After all, a man who fights a duel to the death for the love of a wife is not likely to leave her behind for months on end while he goes exploring the galaxy. StarFleet doesn't want to lose you, and T'Pol is greatly respected for the assistance she gave us with the Xindi. An exception will be made in your case. Officially, it will be treated as a test case."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"As do I, Admiral," said T'Pol.

Ryan smiled at T'Pol, and said, "We will never be able to repay to you for risking your life on our behalf, T'Pol, as well as flushing your career with the High Command down the drain, but we will try."

"Gratitude, Admiral," said T'Pol.

The Admiral made small talk for a few more minutes, then bid them both goodbye, after which T'Pol helped Trip into one of the two overstuffed chairs in the room. She wanted to taste his lips, and as they were alone, T'Pol did so at length. When she finally stopped, and climbed off his lap, Trip was displeased. Very much so.

"Hey! That was no time stop, T'Pol."

"I apologize, Commander Tucker, but I hear the nurses delivering lunch to nearby patients. They will be here any minute."

Trip growled, and his frustration tickled T'Pol through the Bond.

"Be patient," said T'Pol. "We may amuse ourselves tonight, so long as you do not try to exert yourself. You are still healing."

Trip brightened a bit at the thought of that, but T'Pol wasn't quite finished.

"Have you decided, yet?" said T'Pol, studying Trip closely now.

"Decided what, T'Pol?"

"Whether I am to be property or mate."

Trip remembered the last words the Executor had for T'Pol.

"I have not. You deserve to be named as mate, but there are certain attractions to naming you property that I find irresistible, my dear T'Pol," said Trip, sending a wave of sexual desire for T'Pol, which she interpreted as many different sensations, desires and images, all of them extremely agreeable.

T'Pol blushed strongly at that.

"You are fortunate that we are in a place where others can hear your cries for help and come to your aid, Commander Tucker. Vulcan passion is not to be lightly stirred."

"I'll take my chances," said Trip. "But what of my dilemma?"

"Perhaps a logical compromise is called for, Commander Tucker. Name me your mate in public, but keep me as property in private."

"Is that allowed?"

T'Pol bit her lower lip, while looking Trip in the eye. She had done it once while deep in thought, long before the Bond, and could tell even then that Trip had found it alluring. She had done it many times since, sometimes to tease, sometimes to annoy. She did it now to arouse.

"All is allowed, Commander. You won me in mortal combat. I am yours to dispose of as you see fit, Commander."


	8. Chapter 8

**—Chapter 8—**

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Trip had fought Koss for possession of T'Pol. The first week he'd largely spent in pain due the to injuries suffered in that bout, the second week he'd spent in discomfort. Not that any of that mattered. He had T'Pol.

Surprisingly, to Trip at least, T'Les had clearly made her peace with him immediately after the contest was won and Koss was dead, and he suspected that if the Vulcan were questioned on the topic, T'Les would have simply said that she was just acting logically, given that the Bond between Trip and T'Pol was insoluble. The truth of it was that accepting the outcome of the challenge was easy enough for T'Les to handle given how happy T'Pol had been at the outcome, which was something which T'Les could not help but notice, and T'Pol's happiness was something of which T'Les approved. Perhaps dealing with T'Pol's relatively restless and emotional nature truly was something for which Commander Tucker was best suited.

StarFleet had given Trip and T'Pol a ten week leave of absence, a combination of convalescence time for Trip and a honeymoon for them both, and they planned to spend most of it on Vulcan, save for a three week stint on Earth, where Trip planned to introduce T'Pol to the human side of her family. Accordingly, T'Pol was glad to have the opportunity to show off her home planet, and took a great deal of satisfaction in Trip's interest in every facet of Vulcan culture and environment.

Speaking of satisfaction, they both surprised the other, for although the frequency of sexual encounters was higher among Humans, than Vulcans, T'Pol easily made the adjustment, and gladly so. In turn she surprised Trip with the intensity she brought to each pleasurable encounter and he learned the truth to the rumor that Vulcan passions, once unleashed, were much more tempestuous than what the average Human could generate. Trip however, was far from average and so they were both content, and looking forward to the next six weeks of their honeymoon.

"See, first we sauté the onions in oil, just so," said Trip, glancing at T'Les, for he was giving her an impromptu cooking lesson.

T'Les watched, and said, "I see."

"Traditionally one would use butter for this recipe, but avocado oil should do almost as well. It actually has a slightly buttery taste," said Trip, for imported Earth oils were more widely used on Vulcan than dairy products, and what's more, Vulcans had been vegetarians since the Surak's message took hold on Vulcan, although this was not an absolute case: many of the Vulcans living on the coastlines of Vulcan's relatively modest seas still consumed seafood, as they always had, while a sizable number of Vulcans consumed dairy when it was available.

T'Les nodded in understanding of Trip's words, and T'Pol watched their interaction with interest. The two of them got along quite well, and surprisingly shared some common interests, cooking among them.

"Then we add the dried spices and fry them as well," said Trip, "as the heat fully activates their flavor profile, even as the oil absorbs those flavors."

Trip and T'Les made eye contact, and the Vulcan nodded. She was familiar with the principle.

Given the relative scarcity of plant life and variety on arid Vulcan, there was a great deal of imported produce and spices to be found in the markets of the planet and Trip had been delighted to find the proper ingredients to show T'Les how to make a spicy red lentil soup, which was tasty, and easily made. They'd held about a dozen such cooking clinics in the past week, alternating the cook's role.

Trip had started it all, by making two luxurious dishes, one composed primarily of pureed chickpeas, sesame seed paste, garlic and lemon juice, the other dish composed of fire roasted eggplant, lemon juice, olive oil and garlic, both served with a handmade stack of soft flatbreads. T'Pol and her mother had both swooned over the dishes, but only T'Les had the skills to come back with ebress, a luxurious Vulcan dish of mushrooms, Ksava melon, onions and assorted spices which T'Les had served on a bed of steamed Basmati rice... and to his surprise, Trip had found the taste and texture of ebress to be remarkably meat-like, mainly due to the Ksava melon which had a meat-like texture.

Just then, a series of gentle chimes announced a guest at the front door, and T'Pol excused herself to attend to their visitor, but she did so regretfully, for the show was just getting good, and the smell of the frying Earth spices was enticing. A moment later, T'Pol returned with Ambassador Soval in tow, and Soval took in the domestic scene displayed before him with some interest. As this was the first Vulcan/Human pairing, he, among many other Vulcans, was curious as to its progress, and judging by what he saw here, Soval judged that it was going well so far.

"Ambassador," said Trip. "You're just in time for lunch. Ten minutes or so."

"That is fortunate, Commander Tucker," said Soval. "I have not yet had lunch, and we can speak as we eat. It is reasonable to combine the two, for I am here on a matter of some urgency."

"Oh?" said Trip, while T'Pol merely arched a brow. "T'Les, my dear, would you please add two cups of lentils and four cups of water to our pot, then put the lid on and pressurize. Give it ten minutes, and then serve with some of the warmed flatbreads left over from breakfast."

T'Les nodded, said, "Certainly, Trip."

Hearing her mother speak, it truly rankled T'Pol that T'Les had made the transition to calling Commander Tucker by his nickname in public with ease, while she was still struggling to do so.

"Give me a moment to clean up, Ambassador, " said Trip, while T'Pol showed Soval to the living room, where the Vulcan chose his seat from one of two couches facing each other across a long, low, rectangular table.

When Trip returned a few minutes later, after having washed his face and changed his shirt, he found Soval comfortably seated. T'Pol had set the table, and served the Ambassador tea, while she'd brought Trip the iced coffee he favored on hot Vulcan.

"So what brings you here, Ambassador?" said Trip, knowing that Vulcans didn't like to mince words, or waste time, when they were on official business.

"A few hours ago," said Soval, "one of our merchant ships reported coming across a badly damaged Andorian battlecruiser. The ship was in a disputed portion of space between Vulcan and Andoria, but it is not a contested area, and both our species traverse that space, generally without incident. So the ship's captain hailed the Andorian cruiser, and got no response. He then notified his superiors, and they notified us. The S'Lenn arrived on the scene, but has detected no distress signals being sent from the ship, though the ship's sensors did in fact detect fifty-seven Andorian life signs."

T'Les brought the food out in a tray, and T'Pol passed it around, then took a seat next to Trip, while T'Les sat with Soval.

"Oh, this is quite good, Commander Tucker," said Soval after a tentative taste of the spiced lentils, and T'Les murmured her agreement.

"Thank you, Ambassador," said Trip. "But why are you here? If the Andorian's comm system is damaged, the S'Lenn could transport a boarding party to offer help, or you could simply notify the Andorians of the damaged ship and wash your hands of the matter."

"We can not board the ship, Commander Tucker, given the state of our relations with Andoria. The crew would view it as an act of war. They would likely fight for the ship, or destroy it in order to keep it from falling in our hands. Now if we simply notify the Andorians of its fate, they would likely accuse us of being the ones who attacked their ship. We did not attack the Andorians, but a war might easily occur because of this attack on the Andorians, by some unknown third party. We hope that by assisting that ship, our relations with the Andorians might improve, even if only slightly."

"And so you'd like a neutral third party to contact the Andorians," said Trip.

Soval nodded.

"Why me, Ambassador? It seems that Earth's Ambassador to Vulcan would be a better choice to make any such overtures."

"The name of the Andorian ship is the Kumari, Commander Tucker."

"Ah," said Trip, and he and T'Pol looked at each other.

"I do not understand," said T'Les.

"The Enterprise has had several encounters with the Kumari, mother," said T'pol helpfully, "and its commander Thy'lek Shran. He seems to be somewhat fond of both, Captain Archer, and Commander Tucker."

"He likes T'Pol, as well," said Trip, "though you'd have to grasp his testicles pretty hard before he'd admit to that fact."

"I have no intention of doing that, Commander Tucker," said Soval.

Reaching into one of the inside pockets of his robes, Soval withdrew a data pad and passed it to Trip. The Human glanced at it, and then passed it to T'Pol.

"It seems that T'Pol and I are working for you now, Ambassador," said Trip.

"And you are not alone. Lieutenant Reed was on Vulcan as well, and will meet us on board the transport ship. You will take the lead on this matter, Commander Tucker. I would normally delegate the task to T'Pol, as is appropriate for her rank, but you know Shran better than she, and more importantly, you're not a Vulcan," said Soval. "Now, what do you suggest?"

"Arrange a transport for me to the Kumari," said Trip. "I'll board the ship, get an overview of the situation, make contact with Shran. Then we'll go from there."

"That seems logical, Commander," said Soval. "Shall we leave now? Time is of the essence."

"Certainly," said Trip. "T'Les, I apologize for leaving you to clean my mess in the kitchen."

T'Les waved off Trip's apology as inconsequential and then looked at her daughter.

"Mischief seems to follow your mate no matter where he goes, T'Pol. Watch over him, daughter."

"Always," said T'Pol.


	9. Chapter 9

— **Chapter 9—**

* * *

Sixteen hours after leaving Vulcan, Trip, T'Pol, Malcolm and Soval disembarked from the Vulcan runner ship onto the deck of the S'Lenn, and shortly afterwards found themselves on the Bridge.

"I am Vorsas, captain of the S'Lenn," said a distinguished looking Vulcan of elder years.

Soval and T'pol were personally known to Vorsas, and he had seen the video recording of Trip's challenge for T'Pol on the Vulcan info-nets, and so, Reed was the only unknown entity here.

Vulcans didn't normally shake hands, so Trip gave the captain a slight bow from the neck, a bit more formal than a nod, less than a bow, polite enough to avoid offense.

"I am Commander Tucker," Trip said, then gestured towards Malcolm, "and this is Lieutenant Reed. I'm sure you know T'Pol, and Soval. Any change in the situation?"

"Our sensors pick up constant noise and movement on the ship," said Vorsas, "so the logical deduction is that the Andorians are working frantically to repair their ship."

Vorsas addressed one of his Bridge officers, and an image of the Kumari was quickly projected on the main video display.

"Our readings indicate that this damage to the Kumari was caused by an attack," said Vorsas.

"I can see disruptor cannon burns all over the hull," said Malcolm, "and unmistakable signs of at least two torpedo hits."

"Indeed," said Vorsas, "and the aggressor is unknown, which is unfortunate, given that he managed to almost destroy an Andorian battle cruiser, which is no mean feat."

"Klingons use disruptors," said T'Pol.

"True," said Vorsas, "but we are a long, long way from the Klingon border."

One of Vorsas' lieutenants now put a schematic of the Kumari on the main video display. The schematic was shaded in red and green, the red representing sections of the ship in which the atmosphere was vented into space, the green representing air tight sections.

"I recommend transporting you here," said Vorsas, indicating the mess hall with the aid of a laser pointer. "It has a number of life signs, and although suddenly appearing amongst a group of Andorians in these circumstances is not a great idea, it is better than sneaking around, for then they will surely assume you are their attacker, and do their best to kill you."

"Well," said Trip, "we won't get any answers from here, Captain. If you'd be kind enough to transport Lieutenant Reed and I to the Kumari, we'll get the show on the road."

"I am coming with you, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, looking pointedly at Trip.

The entire crew of the S'Lenn knew that T'Pol was Bonded to this Human, and the majority of the Bridge officers watched their interaction with discreet interest, for this was the first such Bonding.

"Given the history of your two peoples, SubCommander," said Trip, "I don't think the Kumari is the best place for any Vulcan to be at the moment. I know for a fact that it's no place for my beloved mate. You can not be replaced, T'Pol."

Trip noticed a slight smile on Soval's lips and quickly reviewed his words, then looked at T'Pol and said, "If my words of endearment have shamed you before your people, I apologize, SubCommander."

It had pleased T'Pol to hear Trip publicly name her his mate, and his words of endearment pleased her more, though it caused her to blush slightly. Vulcans were not so openly demonstrative in public.

"You did not shame me, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"T'Pol is correct on that score, Commander Tucker," said Soval, "and it pleases me to see that T'Pol has found a mate who recognizes her value. You speak truth, when you say that she can not be replaced."

"In any case, your concerns are unjustified, Commander Tucker. Shran knows me," said T'Pol, then finished her thought telepathically through the Bond.

— I outrank you, husband, and I say that I am coming with you."

— No, you're not.

"We don't even know if Shran is alive, SubCommander," said Trip, not missing a beat. "I say it's too dangerous and I say you're not coming, but feel free to bring me up on charges of insubordination, once all this is over."

"If I did that every time you bucked orders and protocol," said T'Pol, "StarFleet's legal apparatus would grind to a halt."

"Commander Tucker's argument is logical, T'Pol," said Soval, understanding Tucker's emotional motivation, and agreeing with the Human's logical deduction. "We will allow him to take point on this matter."

Soval might have been fooled, but T'Pol was not.

— I know what you're doing, Trip. Stop it.

— I'm making a logical decision, and you know it.

— You are trying to keep me safe, and I understand it, but you need me on the Kumari, Trip. I know Andorians! They're a violent species, when stressed. I am the only one that can keep you safe aboard that ship!

— Ok, I love the confidence, T'Pol, but we have to move on now, my love.

T'Pol sighed and sent nothing more through their link… She knew that with Soval's apparent support for Trip's decision, she'd not be allowed to board the Kumari.

— Don't pout, my love.

In truth, T'Pol would never pout, but Trip felt her disapproval through the Bond. She worried for him.

"Captain, would you loan the Lieutenant and I some uniforms?" said Trip.

"Certainly," said Captain Vorsas, and gestured another Vulcan to come forward. "Follow Lon, find something you are comfortable wearing. We will be waiting for you at the transport station."

"Thank you, Captain."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing on Vulcan, Malcolm?" said Trip, when he and Reed were trying on uniforms. "I thought you were on vacation."

"That's what you were meant to think, but in truth, I was playing the part of an errand boy, delivering something from a man named Harris, to his Vulcan counterpart."

"Harris? Never heard of him."

"Leave it that way. I can't talk about it anyway. Just as well I was in the area, you know, now you've got someone to back you up on this assignment."

"I hear that. I'm glad to see you again, Malcolm."

"That goes double for me, Trip, considering that I saw a video of you slicing and dicing Koss for the hand of the fair maiden, T'Pol."

"Well, keep it to yourself," said Trip. "I'm not sure how T'Pol and I are going to break the news that we're mated, married, whatever, to the rest of the Enterprise.

"No worries. I promise that I'll say nothing of it," said Reed with a slight smile, for that clip had been widely viewed, on Earth and the Enterprise. "I'm glad you won."

"Me too," said Trip, "given the alternative."

"Are we good to go?" asked Malcolm, admiring himself in the mirror now.

"I am," said Trip. "What about you? You done primping?"

"It's not like that, mate," said Malcolm, "but you have to give the Vulcans credit. They've got a sense of style. They even make a standard work uniform looks snazzy."

"Great, whatever, let's go."

* * *

"Energize," said Vorsas, and a two seconds later Trip and Malcolm materialized aboard the Kumari, in the Kumari's mess hall to be precise. The place was wreck and the irritating scent and smoke of electrical fires still lingered, though the fires themselves had been extinguished. Of much more importance than the state of the mess hall, however, were the dozen some energy pistols aimed at he and Malcolm's heads.

"Easy, Blueskins," said Trip, hands in the air. "We're unarmed."

While Trip was about to crap his pants at their reception, Malcolm merely looked irritated, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

For her part, T'Pol felt Trip's anxiety spike as he and Reed had materialized onto the Kumari.

— Commander Tucker, report.

— Not a good time, my dear T'Pol. Give me a few minutes.

A mental nod from her to him through the Bond was Trip's confirmation that T'Pol understood, and stood by to assist him if possible.

"You've chosen a bad time to visit us, Pinkskins."

To Trip, that voice sounded only vaguely familiar, but for Malcolm it was like slap to the face, and the lieutenant turned to face the speaker, a predatory grin on his face.

"Lieutenant Talas," said Malcolm. "It's lovely to see you again."

Talas spoke a few words of Andorian, and the crew lowered their weapons, reluctantly in some cases, but she was the ranking officer at the moment, in this place.

"It's been too long, Lieutenant Reed," said Talas, her antennas pointed directly at Malcolm.

The two eyed each other fondly, and that irritated Trip, for he'd just had a dozen pistols pointed at his head.

"Where's Shran, Lieutenant Talas?" said Trip.

"On the Bridge, " said Talas, and snapped her fingers at one of the crewmen.

"This way, Pinkskin," said the Andorian, looking at Trip.

Trip looked at Malcolm, but Talas grasped Reed's bicep, looked at Trip, and said, "Go alone, Commander Tucker. I'll bring Lieutenant Reed up to speed from my end."

Malcolm looked torn between desire and duty, but Trip knew that duty would win in the end, and so he gave Malcolm an easy way out.

"That sounds like a good idea, Malcolm," said Trip. "Give her a kiss for me, when she's done speaking."

"Fair enough. Let T'Pol know we're ok. She worries, you know," said Malcolm, with an innocent grin, "with you being the weaker vessel and all."

Trip gave Reed the Evil Eye, and said, "Blow me, Lieutenant."

* * *

"We should have heard from Commander Tucker by now," said Vorsas.

"Quite so," said Soval.

"Commander Tucker is on his way to speak with Commander Shran," said T'Pol. "We must wait patiently, until we hear from him."

"Ah," said Soval.

Bonded Vulcan couples were able to communicate with each other through the Bond. In weaker Bonds this was limited to an intimate knowledge of the other's emotional states, while stronger Bonds added telepathy to that, and the strongest of Bonds added a psychic virtual space in which thought ruled and reality could be controlled, if only for the duration of the time the Bonded couple chose to spend in that construct.

Still, given Vulcan mores, it would have been extremely rude of Soval to ask T'Pol directly if she could communicate with Commander Tucker. What if their Bond was only emotional, or perhaps even less than that. This was the first Human/Vulcan pairing and nothing was certain in such a case.

Still, Soval found it interesting that a Bond only weeks old was already strong enough to allow Tucker and T'Pol to communicate mentally. That was extremely unusual, and he wondered if they would eventually be able to reach the Sanctuary, as that shared virtual space was called, for in that place, the Bonded couple could overcome the ravages of time, illness or distance, to celebrate the Bond in the flower of their prime.


	10. Chapter 10

**—Chapter 10—**

* * *

"I tell you, Pinkskin, it was the damned Vulcans!" said Shran, slamming his fist on the arm of his command chair.

"You saw them?" said Trip. "You're sure?"

"No, I was in my Ready Room when the attack came."

"You must have sensor data, Shran."

"I do, but our computer systems are down, along with the engines, communications and a half dozen other systems. We just got life support back online two hours ago and I don't have much confidence in how long that will last."

"Ok, Shran, let me speak to the Vulcans and we'll take things from there."

"Have you gone mad, Pinkskin? The Vulcans did this to us!"

"I doubt it, Shran. You know that's not their style."

"I know them better than you!"

"Listen, Shran, if the Vulcans attacked you, why did they bring me here to speak with you? Why are they willing to help repair the Kumari? Why not just finish the job?"

"I don't pretend to understand them, Pinkskin, but I want nothing from Vulcans! When I get the Kumari back to Andoria, I am certain the Emperor will call for war, and if survive the Emperor's displeasure I will be part of that war, in a somewhat diminished capacity."

"What do you mean?"

"I lost my ship without even firing a shot, Commander Tucker. I'll be busted down to cabin boy, if I'm not executed immediately for my folly. With my luck I'll have to serve a humiliating tour as a cabin boy, and then I'll be executed."

"Fine, but for any of that to happen, the Kumari has to amount to something more than a hunk of junk floating in space."

"Hunk of junk! You'd be wise to watch your tongue, Commander Tucker," said Shran, rising to his feet, antennas waving sinuously.

"Apologies, Shran."

After a long moment of silence, Shran waved his hand, and said, "Forget it."

"Listen, Shran, I want to help. Can you get the Kumari back in some sort of shape by yourselves? Because if you can, I'm a hell of an engineer and I want to help."

Reluctantly, Shran shook his head, and said, "No, Commander, I can not."

"So unless an Andorian ship finds you, this ship is dead in the water."

"Yes, I suppose. But they will come looking for us, Commander."

"But how long will it take for them to find you, Shran. If your life support systems go down, the search parties will find only corpses. You have a duty to your crew, Commander. May I suggest a course of action?"

"Yes."

"Allow me to ask for Vulcan help," said Trip, then raised his hand to forestall Shran's objections. "In the name of StarFleet, Shran, so you won't be the one asking for their help. Let's shore up your life support systems, then see if we can fix your communications array. Once we do that, we'll call for Andorian help, and while we're waiting, we get your computer systems back online. That way we can access your sensor data and we'll know what happened to your ship."

Shran mulled over Trip's offer, but he really didn't have much choice.

"Agreed."

* * *

"I must say," said Soval, "I am pleasantly surprised that Commander Tucker managed to persuade an Imperial Guard to accept Vulcan help."

"Do not be surprised, Soval," said T'Pol, "for he can be quite persuasive. When I first met Commander Tucker, I did not care for him. Now, I am his Bonded mate, and I still can not tell you how he did it."

"Interesting," said Soval, for he had lived among Humans long enough to find amusement in T'Pol's statement, and though he couldn't be certain, Soval thought it likely that T'Pol had deliberately made a joke with her statement.

* * *

For the next twenty hours, the Vulcans beamed aboard the Kumari those items requested by Commander Tucker. Some parts had to be manufactured onsite by the Vulcans, but the S'Lenn had a quality machine shop and skilled craftsmen. Once those requested items were aboard the Kumari, a team of suspicious Andorians scanned every item for signs of treachery or espionage before sending it on its way to the appropriate station. The Andorians themselves were tireless, and so, later that watch, the life support was nailed down, computer systems back online to twenty-percent of capacity and the comm array partially rebuilt.

"We have some time to kill, Shran," said Trip. "The comm array will take another six hours to repair."

"That's too long," said Shran. "I'll light a fire under my enginee-"

"Leave them alone, Shran. The comm array was a disaster, and they're doing the best they can. In the meantime, pull up your sensor data. Let's have a look at it."

Shran spoke a few words in Andorian and the main video display showed a large number of thumbnails. One thumbnail represented optical data, another, energy readings, still another represented navigational readings, and so on.

"Pull up the visual data first, Shran."

"The aft display, Tel," said Shran. "We were attacked from the rear."

One of Shran's officers began playing the visual record, which was gathered by a system of cameras placed all around the hull of the Kumari.

"There!" said Shran, as a section of space shimmered, then solidified into the form of a ship.

All watched as the mystery ship unleashed a brutal attack upon the Kumari. The Andorians had never stood a chance.

"Malcolm, stop molesting Lieutenant Talas and get to the Bridge," said Trip, speaking into his comm unit. "You need to see something here."

"On my way," said Malcolm.

Trip had time to replay the attack several times by the time Malcolm showed up on the Bridge, and he had no doubts over the identity of the attacker, though he wanted Malcolm to verify that identity.

"What's going on, Commander?" said Reed.

"Look at this, Malcolm."

Malcolm only needed to see the video footage once.

"Romulans."

"Who are the Romulans?" said Shran, eager to discover the identity of the people who had attacked his ship in such a cowardly fashion.

"Trouble, Shran," said Trip. "The Romulans are trouble."


	11. Chapter 11

— **Chapter 11—**

* * *

Fifty-two hours after receiving the Kumari's distress signal, the damaged Andorian ship was joined by three sister ships, all manned by Imperial Guards, Andoria's premier fighting force on the ice, in space, or anywhere else that the Andorian Emperor saw fit to send his Guards, in order to represent Andorian interests. These three Andorian ships surrounded the Kumari and the S'Lenn in a triangular pattern now, but having been informed by Shran that the Vulcans were not to responsible for the attack on the Kumari, the prows of the Andorian ships were pointed outwards, their weapons facing away from the Vulcans as a courtesy, and a precaution against another ambush by these... Romulans.

Admiral Tsoi, the ranking Andorian officer, asked for a meeting of all parties, and out of respect for the Vulcan aid he requested that meeting be held on the S'Lenn.

"The Emperor wishes to express his gratitude to Vulcan, for aid rendered to the Kumari," said Admiral Tsoi.

Soval, as an Ambassador and a life-long diplomat, was the logical choice to acknowledge and accept the Andorian Emperor's gratitude, and he did so with now.

"We were glad to be of assistance, Admiral," said Soval, "and we hope that this will be the start of a more benign association between our two species."

Tsoi nodded, then said, "The introduction of this species, the Romulans, to this sector of space seems like an ill omen, Ambassador. How ill an omen, depends on whether this will happen again, or if this event was a one off, an anomaly."

"I believe it has already happened many times before," said Captain Vorsas of the S'Lenn. "Vulcan ships have been disappearing lately. We weren't certain as to the cause, as all we've found so far was debris. The Kumari's sensor readings cleared up that mystery as far as I am concerned."

"Why did they spare the Kumari, I wonder?" said Reed.

"I believe that I have the answer to that, Lieutenant," said T'Pol, and every eye turned to her.

"I've pored over the sensor telemetry we received from the Kumari. If you do the same, you will notice that at the precise time that the Kumari was attacked, the Vulcan merchant ship which reported the attack appeared within sensor range of the Kumari, and I propose, on the sensors of the Romulans."

"So they thought another Andorian ship was coming to the Kumari's aid?" said Admiral Tsoi.

"Unlikely," said T'Pol. "They probably recognized the warp signature as Vulcan and perhaps they assumed that the Vulcans would finish off the Andorians, or perhaps the Romulans simply did not wish to be recognized, or show up on Vulcan sensor data, so they warped out of the area."

"That's interesting," said Tsoi. "So the Vulcan ship actually saved the Kumari. Given our history with Vulcan, I must say that I find that to be a bitter tonic, but even so, I add my gratitude to that of my Emperor."

"That the Romulans suddenly showed up in this sector, and are destroying both Vulcan and Andorian ships tells me they have a plan," said Reed.

"Naturally," said Tsoi. "I suspect that they are trying to instigate a war between Andoria and Vulcan, and Captain Vorsas' information that Vulcans are being attacked as well, makes that theory even more plausible. Naturally, once we beaten ourselves bloody, the Romulans swoop in and conquer this sector with nary a struggle."

"You understand that such a thing has far reaching implications, Admiral," said Soval. "Perhaps Vulcan and Andoria should discuss the matter, officially."

"I agree," said Tsoi, then looked at Trip. "My Emperor has never met a Human, and wishes to speak with you, Commander Tucker, and thank you for the aid you gave the Kumari. Come to Andoria."

"I'd like that," said Trip, "but perhaps you would care to take a Human diplomat as well. I know Earth wishes to open diplomatic relations with Andoria."

"You will do for now," said Tsoi. "But perhaps Soval will be good enough to come to Andoria along with Earth's Ambassador to Vulcan, for some preliminary discussions on this Romulan matter."

The Andorians had long been a tough nut to crack, diplomatically as well as militarily, so Soval jumped at the chance to open relations with them, especially if his suspicions of the Romulan goals in this sector were accurate.

"I would be honored to do so, Admiral," said Soval.

"Six days from now, one Vulcan ship may enter Andorian space from this particular vector," said Tsoi, handing Soval a data pad with the vector mentioned. "That ship will be met and escorted by three Andorian cruisers. Their orders will be to protect you with their lives, should the Romulans come again."

"Then we will meet again on Andoria," said Soval.

"Commander Tucker," said Tsoi, "if there is nothing else…"

— It is fortunate for you that Vulcans have no feelings, husband, sent T'Pol, for I can read your purpose. You intend to leave me behind once more, and if I had a heart, it would be breaking.

Trip was caught, and he knew it. He knew very well that Vulcans had feelings, his mate more than any, and he knew that if he left T'Pol behind once more, even to protect her from harm, it would mean trouble. Although T'Pol could never truly leave him now that they were Bound, that did not mean that their relationship and their Bond could not suffer.

— You are mistaken, my dear T'Pol, sent Trip. The thought of leaving you behind never crossed my mind.

T'Pol knew that he was lying, and Trip knew that she knew, but none of that mattered, and her end of the Bond danced with gratitude.

"My shipmate, Lieutenant Reed will join us, as will my mate, T'Pol."

Tsoi was surprised by that last bit of information, but nodded and said, "Our shuttle awaits."


	12. Chapter 12

— **Chapter 12—**

* * *

No human had ever seen Andoria, though surprisingly a few Vulcans actually had done just that, mostly diplomats. An icy moon orbiting a ringed gas giant, Andoria was stunningly beautiful. Trip and Malcolm were glued to the view port windows for the entire approach and landing, and even Shran, who'd seen the sight countless times, smiled broadly, taking pleasure in the Pinkskins delight. T'Pol, as a matter of Vulcan pride, took it all in blandly, as if staring at a ham sandwich, though privately she found Andoria to be quite aesthetically pleasing. The frozen landscape, dotted liberally with both shard like mountains and mile deep sinkholes was simply majestic, for Admiral Tsoi had ordered his pilot to take the scenic trip to Laikan, the capital city of Andoria, for the benefit of his guests.

"Your planet's beautiful, Shran, but how can anything live here?" said Trip.

"Life began, and largely exists beneath the ice shelves, Commander," said Shran, and as if timed to make that point, Vashur's Glory, Admiral Tsoi's flagship, hovered, and then descended quickly into a sinkhole and shortly thereafter landed in a military facility some eight hundred feet beneath the ice.

A hover-transport waited for them, but even the short walk from ship to transport was chilly for the Humans, and torturously cold for T'Pol. For Shran it was a warm summer day. The transport was comfortably warm though, and soon Trip and Malcolm were taking in the beauty of Laikan. The spectacle of an Andorian city of lights and an endless number of glass domes stacked in an orderly fashion, like giant grapes, all built in a series of gargantuan caverns, and on multiple levels was something Trip wouldn't have missed for anything, but after a while he sensed T'Pol's need to meditate and her desire to spend some time with him alone, and so he gave Shran a look and said, "T'Pol's exhausted, and cold. Let's find someplace warm for her to unwind."

"Very well. I told the Admiral you'd stay with me tonight," said Shran, "and tomorrow evening we take a shuttle to the Imperial Palace."

"Sounds good, but I hope you cleaned your place before you left for this last mission. My little Vulcan," said Trip, looking fondly at T'Pol, "is a neat freak, and if your place is a mess she won't be able to close her eyes until she scrubs it so that it's flawlessly clean."

Shran snorted a laugh at that, but said nothing. When they arrived at Shran's place it was Trip's turn to snort, in disbelief, because he was rendered speechless.

"Jesus Christ, Shran," said Malcolm, "the Imperial Guards must pay much better than StarFleet."

Shran lived in an elegant mansion of modern design, built of exquisite gray marble slabs and silver coated steel beams, four levels high, and set on a high perch with a great view of Laikan... and if the outside was elegantly attractive, the inside was luxuriously and tastefully appointed. It was spotless to boot, which meant T'Pol could rest easy this night.

"It's humble," said Shran modestly, "but its home."

* * *

Two hours later, Trip soaked in a large tub carved from a bright blue stone streaked with broad gold veins, and he was already three shots into a cold bottle of Andorian ale. T'Pol had been lost in meditation until recently, but he heard her moving around, and Trip wasn't surprised when she sought him out, wearing only a shorty kimono robe of Risan manufacture.

Trip waved a hand, and said, "Shran knows how to live, eh?"

"I suppose," said T'Pol.

"If I can talk StarFleet into giving me a raise, I'll buy you a place like this."

"That is not necessary on my account," said T'Pol. "In any case, Imperial Guards are well paid, but not this well. Shran's father is a wealthy man and this house was a present from him when Shran made captain of the Kumari."

"How do you know."

"I've seen the intelligence file on our fine host. It was fairly skimpy on facts, but that much I learned."

"I like him, T'Pol. Shran is great."

"You have had too much to drink, Commander Tucker. You are getting emotional."

Trip splashed some water at T'Pol, and said, "Are you coming in?"

"I have not yet decided," said T'Pol. "You know, when you get drunk, I also feel it through the Bond."

"Accept it with your usual reserve, my large breasted beauty."

"Very well, but no more, or I'll pass out."

"Two more shots, my sweet."

"No."

"One more."

"Fine, Commander Tucker. One more."

"Two," said Trip, and took that first shot, and then another, after which he set the bottle on the floor, lest he accidentally tip it over: that ale was too good to waste.

"Come. Join me," said Trip. "The water's hot, and so am I."

T'Pol slipped out of her robe and lowered herself slowly into the water.

"I didn't hear anyone else," said T'Pol. "Are we alone?"

"Yes, my sweet pea. Shran called one of his girlfriends and Lieutenant Talas came for Malcolm. They're tearing up the town."

"That is nice for them. You have a lot of pet names for me when you are drunk, Commander Tucker."

"Do you object to that fact, my little crumpet?"

"Not if it amuses you."

"It does," said Trip, "Before they left, Shran ordered some food for us. The delivery service left it in the kitchen and it smelled good."

"We will eat after," said T'Pol.

"After what?"

"After after," said T'Pol.

"You're drunk!"

T'Pol smiled. Such a simple act, yet it never failed to surprise Trip, given the contrast with her usually controlled Vulcan nature.

"That is your fault!" said T'Pol, climbing on Trip's lap. "Don't judge me."

"Don't judge me, you say? You're a Vulcan T'Pol, and you will not use contractions with me!"

T'Pol just gave Trip a long suffering look, which amused him to no end, and so Trip began laughing and laughing until he started to choke. Just as he had begun to regain control of himself, a glance at T'Pol's face only made him start laughing again. He could sense her amusement through the Bond.

"Oh, God, oh…"

"What amuses you so, Commander Tucker."

"Please, stop, T'Pol."

"Stop what?"

"Oh, God, stop!"

"I am not doing anything, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, her face almost setting Trip off again. "What am I doing?"

"Look at us. Look at what we're doing. We're both naked, and you're sitting on my lap."

"And so?"

"And so you're still calling me Commander Tucker. The formality of your language contrasts with our intimate, er… Never mind."

"I am glad that you are so easy to amuse, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, reaching down and guiding Trip, then sighing as she lowered herself onto him.

* * *

Trip was in the process of polishing off last night's leftovers the next morning, when Shran dragged himself into the kitchen, eyes bleary and red, antennas drooping.

"Morning, Shran," said Trip, in a voice just shy of a yell.

"Arrrrggh!" said Shran. "Silence, Pinkskin!"

Trip laughed, and said, "Long night, Shran?"

"Oh, yes. You would not believe—"

Shran stopped speaking when Lieutenant Talas dragged herself into the kitchen in much the same shape as her commanding officer, followed moments later by Malcolm. Now Malcolm looked as if he'd gotten a full eight hours sleep in a dewy meadow, so bright eyed and bushy tailed was he.

"Wonderful day, Trip," said Malcolm cheerfully. "Wonderful."

The Andorians groaned and the Humans laughed.

"If you want to hang around us Pinkskins," said Trip, "you'll have to learn how to hold your liquor, my fine Andorian friends."

Malcolm began laughing at that, and Trip joined him, while Talas looked at them both with a scowl on her face.

"Have your laughs, Pinkskins. We meet the Emperor today," said Shran. "We'll see who is laughing afterwards. I know I won't be."


	13. Chapter 13

— **Chapter 13—**

* * *

"We have some time to kill before we leave for the Imperial Palace," said Shran. "Due to my rank in the Guards I have a proper communications setup here, so if you like, you can reach Vulcan from any comm node in the house and they can relay your data stream to your families, embassies or StarFleet."

Shran's guests split up on hearing that. Reed called family, while T'Pol checked in with her mother, then made a quick report to the High Command and StarFleet both, outlining a theory she and Trip had come to concerning Romulan cloaking technology.

Once finished, she looked for Trip, and found him in their bedroom, speaking to his father. T'Pol stood by the door, unsure if she was ready to introduce herself to her mate's family. They didn't even know she and Trip were now mated, nor the risks he had run in the process. Trip had different ideas though, for he beckoned T'Pol and sat her on his thigh, from where she could see the video monitor, and be seen in it. Charlie was clearly surprised by T'Pol's sudden appearance, and probably her species, but the twinkle in his eyes indicated his appreciation of the Vulcan beauty.

"A Vulcan girlfriend? You corrupted a Vulcan?!" said Charlie, looking at Trip. "Now I know you're my boy!"

Trip laughed, for his father had been a notorious womanizer before meeting his wife, Trip's mother, who had found the proper combination to his heart.

"Young lady," said Charlie to T'Pol, "nice to meet you."

"Mr. Tucker," said T'Pol. "A pleasure."

"Charlie. Call me Charlie."

T'Pol nodded and Charlie looked at his son, and said, "And who might this be, Trip?"

"This might be the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, but it's not. This is T'Pol and she's the newest official member of the Tucker clan," said Trip with a broad smile.

Charlie laughed, and said,"You got married? Oh, brother, your mother's going blow a gasket over this!"

"Oh, yes," said Trip.

"When are you coming home to face the music?" said Charlie.

"What, are you kidding? I'm never coming back. Open space is both home and refuge for me, now and forever."

Charlie laughed.

T'Pol seemed confused, and said, "Your mother did not want you to marry, Trip? Or is it because I am an alien?"

Trip shook his head, but Charlie beat him to the punch.

"No, dear," said Charlie, "it's nothing like that. I think it's wonderful that you and Trip are married, but in our family it's traditional for the parents to throw a big wedding for the happy couple. My wife will simply be angry at Trip for robbing her of the pleasure of giving you a big ceremony, a great party and strutting you around like a show pony to introduce you to all the other members of the family."

T'Pol's mind conjured an image of herself, a rope around her neck, trotting in a circle before a number of onlookers, and Trip must have glimpsed her image, because he looked at her, and laughed.

— Relax, my pet. That's just a figure of speech.

— I see.

Their mental conversation only required a fraction of a second, so T'Pol never missed a beat with Charlie.

"I understand, Charlie."

"So, really, when are you two coming for a visit?"

"Not sure, dad. We'll try to make it soon."

"Ok. Where are you now?"

"Andoria."

"Really?" said Charlie. "Take some photos for us, Trip."

"Will do, dad. Listen, we have to go now. It was good to talk to you."

"Right back at you, boy. T'Pol, great to meet you. Glad to hear about your marriage."

"Thank you, Charlie. I look forward to meeting you in person."

Trip gave Charlie a wave, and logged off.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, T'Pol?"

"No, not at all. Your father is very nice."

"I told you he'd love you."

"Yes.

Shran walked past their door and Trip called out, "Shran."

"Yes, Pinkskin."

Shran was wearing the black dress uniform of a Captain of the Guards.

"Shran, you look great," said Trip, "but the rest of us need to hit a clothing store, or you need to open your closet to Malcolm and I. All we have are our Vulcan uniforms. That outfit you loaned Malcolm last night was snazzy, if you have something similar for me. And T'Pol's catsuit is nice enough for most venues, but not the Imperial Palace."

"You're on Andoria now, Pinkskin. You will be properly attended, never fear. We leave in thirty minutes."


	14. Chapter 14

**—Chapter 14—**

* * *

An Imperial shuttle had whisked Shran and his guests far to the north of Laikan, to a site of great natural beauty above the ice, and the location of one of the Emperor's palaces, covered in a duraglass dome against the often brutal surface weather. After disembarking, the outlanders were ushered to a small wing of the palace, where they were offered drinks, given a spa treatment and massage and finally shown to a series of rooms overflowing with clothes of every cut and style, Andorian and alien, all of the highest quality. An Andorian tailor took a few measurements of both humans and Vulcan and spoke to the butler in charge of this department who departed, and returned shortly with several quality selections for each man, and five times as many selections for T'Pol.

"Tell me about your Emperor, Shran," said Malcolm, as he and Trip stripped off their clothes.

"His Imperial Highness is named Talrood, Hemli e'Lanza Arkaj."

"Only four names?" said Trip.

"Don't try to funny where our Emperor is concerned, Pinkskin," said Shran. "One of the Guards will gut you like fish. It might even be me."

Trip hung his head in a pose of proper repentance, and said, "Apologies, Shran. Tell us more."

"He is the fifth of his line," said Shran. "The first of his line overthrew the previous Emperor some four hundred years ago, and wiped out his bloodline."

"Is that the normal method of succession in Andor?" said Malcolm.

"Andor is a meritocracy, Lieutenant. Any male with the ability can become Emperor if he's strong enough, cunning enough, wise enough. When his line grows weak, stupid or ineffectual, he and his line stand in danger."

"Any male, Shran?" said Trip. "I ask because I'm quite taken with Andor."

Shran laughed, and said, "I salute your optimism, Pinkskin, but there's never been an alien Emperor, and I'll wager there never will be. Every Andorian would make it his business to put you down, before they would allow themselves to be governed by an outlander."

"A man's got to have a dream, Shran. What else?"

"He did a six year stint in the Imperial Guards, while still the heir apparent. He received the best combat training and the most intense tactical and strategic education. I believe that's why he takes this Romulan attack more seriously than a single attack on us might warrant. A Guard knows that eternal vigilance is the only proper shield."

"I'm not hearing anything I hate," said Trip.

"He dislikes pomp and circumstance unless absolutely necessary, so your meetings with him will likely be understated," said Shran.

"Good, good," said Malcolm, as he admired himself in a form fitting suit of gray Tholian silk. "I like this suit."

"By Imperial custom it's yours to keep, Lieutenant," said Shran. "Wear it in good health."

"Nice," said Trip, who'd gone with a lightweight linen suit of Andorian cut.

"You know," said Shran, "with all the excitement, I've forgotten to congratulate you on your marriage, Commander Tucker."

Trip smiled, and said, "Thank you, Shran. I thought you didn't like Vulcans. Did you forget that Polly's a Vulcan?"

"No," said Shran, "but I find her quite exceptional despite that troubling fact. I wish you both a happy marriage."

"Thanks, Shran," said Trip, knowing that Shran wasn't one to mince words, and if he said something, he meant it.

A few minutes later, T'Pol entered the room in an elegant Vulcan wraparound gown of silk, that reminded Trip of an Indian sari. It covered every inch of of T'Pol below the neck, save her arms, but hugged her figure like a second skin.

"Halleluja," said Malcolm.

"Quite attractive, SubCommander," said Shran. "That shade of red flatters you."

"And now we're ready to meet an Emperor," said Trip, his eyes lingering on T'Pol.

* * *

Talrood entered the dining room accompanied by four Imperial Guards, and each Guard carried a stylized ice-dagger and a phaser pistol at their waist, and most likely another half dozen assorted weapons concealed about their persons. Once the Emperor was seated, the Guards stepped back and became all but immobile, though their eyes missed nothing: only a fool would try to harm the Emperor while he was under their watchful eye.

The Emperor had chosen to entertain his guests in a small dining room which was appointed to service twenty guests or less, and so it was an appropriately cozy room for casual dining.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I understand we owe you all a debt for the aid you have given the Kumari," said Talrood, looking at the outlanders, before he turned his gaze to Shran and smiled. "Good to see you, Shran. How are you, after your harrowing ordeal?"

Trip and Malcolm looked at each other silently, for neither man would have cared to be on the other end of the Emperor's cold smile, but Shran maintained his composure well enough.

"I am well for now, Highness," said Shran. "I expect to be unwell, soon enough."

"You must be prescient, Shran. Get the fuck out of here and report to Guardsman Vrij, in the wine cellar."

Shran stood, saluted and left the room as Admiral Tsoi entered the room and took a seat at the right hand side of his Emperor.

"Highness," said Trip.

"Yes, Commander Tucker?"

"I assume that 'wine cellar' is a euphemism?"

"Not really," said Talrood. "Beneath the palace are a number of rough rooms, and half of that space is devoted to wine, the other half serves as a temporary brig."

"Once again I will make an assumption that Captain Shran will not enjoy his visit to the wine cellar?"

"He will not, but it is not as bad as you might imagine. He will merely be confined to a small, bare cell, until I decide his fate."

"Then perhaps I might ask a favor, in view of the help we gave the Kumari?"

"You may ask. What is the favor, Commander Tucker?"

"I ask your Highness to show Shran leniency. If you've seen the sensor data of the attack, you must understand that Shran had no chance to defend the Kumari, given the stealthy method of the Romulan attack."

"The nature of the Romulan attack is the only reason Shran's head still rests on his shoulders, instead of a spear. I will take your plea into consideration, Commander. You and Shran are friends?"

"I hold Captain Shran in high esteem. He is everything an Andorian Imperial Guard should be."

"That was not my question, Commander," said Talrood.

"I do consider him a friend, Highness."

"So you're biased, where Shran's abilities are concerned."

"Biased perhaps, Highness, but Shran is a truly capable officer. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Talrood glanced at Admiral Tsoi.

Tsoi nodded, and said, "Shran has an excellent record, Highness."

— Perhaps we should share our theories about the Romulans with Talrood, in return for leniency with Shran, sent T'Pol.

— Try it, my love.

T'Pol nodded and looked at Talrood.

"Your Highness," she said, "my mate and I have been discussing the matter of Romulan technology the past few days. We have some ideas, if you would care to hear them."

"I would," said Talrood, as the servants began filling glasses and serving foods.

"My mate is an engineer by training," said T'Pol, "and he believes that the Romulan cloaking device must consume a great deal of energy. That the Romulans decloak as they attack supports our theory that the cloak is expensive, energetically speaking, for it would be safer to attack while cloaked, if that was an option."

Both Talrood and the Admiral listened intently.

"Which means," said T'Pol, "they'll probably be unable to maintain the cloak at high warp speeds. The Kumari was cruising at warp one at the time of the attack."

"Go on," said Talroon.

"Well, for starters," said T'Pol, "I would suggest that all your ships travel at their best speed. Now, even if the cloaking device actually works at higher warp speeds, it will probably not be as effective at high speed, and wary crews will stand a better chance of detecting them, if Commander Tucker is correct."

"That is a promising idea and something worth investigating," said Talrood, "but ships don't move around the clock at best speed. How do we protect them while docked?"

"It would be trivial to program the onboard computers to constantly monitor the ship's surroundings using their sensors and automatically respond to any attack, much faster than any organic being, Human, Andorian or Vulcan."

"But if the Romulans attack and re-engage their cloaking device…" said Admiral Tsoi.

"Admiral," said Trip, "the times we're speaking of here are very brief for organic beings, but are an eternity in terms of computer speed, for our computer systems can perform trillions of operations per second, so sensors can detect the instant in which the Romulans decloak and initiate a counter-strike a fraction of a second later."

Malcolm had listened with interest, and said, "They won't be able to avoid our retaliatory phaser hits, and while the torpedoes will be slower to arrive on target, they can be programmed to disperse their destructive energy over a wide area, which should catch the Romulans unless they can warp out immediately, which I doubt they can. These suggestions should also work to protect space docks and construction facilities, so long as you ring them with some armed satellites, or gunships acting as such."

"It is not just a matter of a retaliatory strike," said T'Pol. "The same computer sub-routines which trigger the counter-strike can also send a distress call with proper coordinates, as well as initiate a jamming protocol of all comm channels. If we do it right, the Romulans will lose ships, but they will not know exactly why. I do not believe they will risk an all out attack until they figure out what is happening to their ships, for fear we have a novel weapon."

"Oh, that is something worth doing," said Talrood, who looked at his Admiral.

"Very promising," said Admiral Tsoi. "We will implement your suggestions at once."

"Keep in mind," said Trip, "that this will not work for merchant ships as their weapons and sensor systems are inadequate. They will have to rely on speed alone. Even military ships will still take losses. All our idea offers you is a chance to strike back at them in a one for one scenario."

"Better one for one, than one for none," said Admiral Tsoi.

"I agree," said Talrood, looking at T'Pol. "We appreciate you sharing your thoughts with us, T'Pol, especially given the history of our two peoples."

"It would be best for this entire sector of space," said T'pol, "if we could set aside old grudges in the face of an aggressive invader. Your Highness will need dedicated Guards like Shran now more than ever, for he has a proven record of dealing with outlanders."

"Point taken, T'Pol," said Talrood with a smile. "I never thought I'd see a Vulcan defend an Andorian. Have you told your people of these theories?"

"My people and StarFleet, both," said T'Pol. "I have also suggested that they track all unexplained ship disappearances. The more data we have, the more likely we are to predict Romulan actions."

"That is a good idea. It seems we might all benefit if we work together," said Talrood. "You've put me in mind to try my own experiment."

"May I ask the nature of that experiment, Highness?" said T'Pol.

"Not yet, for it is a political experiment. Soval will be along with an Admiral Ryan from StarFleet as well as Earth's Ambassador to Vulcan, soon enough. I will discuss the matter with them and then get back to you all, if they agree with my suggestion."

T'Pol nodded and looked at Trip.

— What do you think he's planning, T'Pol.

— I have no clue.

— You look sexy in that gown.

— Vulcans do not do sexy, Commander.

— Some Vulcans do, T'Pol, sent Trip, along with a vision and a set of tactile sensations of him ripping the gown from her flesh right then and there to the shock of everyone assembled in the room.

T'Pol was scandalized. She blushed deeply and lowered her eyes to conceal that fact from the others.

— You are more beast than man, husband.

Trip's end of the Bond shook with laughter, though only the slightest of smiles graced his face.

— Does that fact turn you against me, my love?

— Not in the slightest, Commander Tucker.


	15. Chapter 15

**—Chapter 15—**

* * *

Twelve days had passed since the StarFleet trio had met the Andorian Emperor, who had sequestered himself with Soval, Admiral Ryan and the human Ambassador. T'Pol was assisting both Soval and Admiral Ryan, so she was gone for the better part of each day, leaving Trip and Malcolm to their own devices. The time should have passed easily for Trip, as the palace had many pleasant diversions, but he was worried about Shran. He and Malcolm had tried to see the Andorian daily, but the Guards on duty invariably turned him away, though they did so politely.

Oddly enough, all things considered, it was with these very same Guards that Malcolm and Trip spent the majority of their time, due to the rescue of the Kumari, which gave them both an in with the Imperial Guards. So each day, the two Humans trudged two miles on foot through the snows outside the dome sheltering the palace, in order to reach the Guards' barracks and training grounds, and it was there that they learned to handle Andorian phased grenades, pistols and rifles, learned to conduct ambushes, as well as assaults on fixed positions manned by Guards, or perhaps protect a randomly chosen Guard from faux assassination, or to commit a faux assassination on a target protected by Guards, and although the power discharge of the practice weapons was reduced to a mere fraction, it was still enough to produce a nasty bruise where flesh was struck, from kinetic shock alone.

Malcolm took to it like a duck to water and used the time to hone his already impressive skills to an even sharper edge, but Trip, who'd rated only average with energy weapons was much improved due to the excellent instructors and long days spent in practice. The highlight of it all for Trip, was using a 90mm phaser cannon in concert with Malcolm, to destroy an assault force of mechanically controlled snow tanks which were considered obsolete and scheduled for destruction.

And at the end of each such day, Malcolm would take a shuttle back to Laikan to spend time with Lieutenant Talas, while Trip would crawl into a hot tub to ease sore muscles until T'Pol's work day finally ended, and their night began. This night was different though. As Trip was about to strip off his dirty fatigues, he sensed T'Pol through the Bond.

— You are done playing with Malcolm and the Guards?

— Yes, my little sehlat.

— You are comparing me to a fierce Vulcan predator?

— Yes. What's up?

— Talrood will send for you soon. Make yourself presentable.

— Ok. Anything else?

T'Pol sent a sehlat's growl along the Bond to Trip.

— Right back at you, sent Trip.

* * *

"Have a seat, Commander Tucker," said Talrood once Trip entered the room.

The Emperor was seated at a large conference table, along with Soval, Admiral Ryan, and Evans, the Human Ambassador to Vulcan. As Trip sat, he sensed T'Pol drawing closer and a few moments later she walked into the room, a thick folder in her hands. She chose a chair next to her mate and folded her hands atop that folder. Trip reached out to T'Pol through the Bond, manipulated it without thought or effort, and she interpreted that manipulation as the back of Trip's hand caressing her left cheek. She tweaked her end of the Bond and Trip felt her lips on his, for a quick peck.

"We, the representatives of our respective governments, have been engaged in some rather substantial discussions," said Talrood. "You are here to be brought up to speed, as Admiral Ryan would say. Do you remember, Commander Tucker, that I made mention of a political experiment I'd like to try when we first met?"

"I remember you briefly touching on such a thing, Highness, but you did not elaborate on it."

"That is because I wished to speak to the Vulcan and the Human ambassadors, see if they'd be amenable to being a part of my experiment."

"And they have listened to your proposal and found it acceptable," said Trip.

"Yes, Commander Tucker," said Talrood. "For this experiment, I volunteered the use of an Andorian battlecruiser as well as thirty Andorian crew members. I asked the Vulcan government and StarFleet, each, to donate thirty crew members, to fully crew this ship. I wish to see if our three species can work together effectively."

Trip was surprised at hearing that. The Andorians had been on bad terms with the Vulcans for some time now, and blood had been shed on both sides.

"That's quite imaginative, Highness," said Trip. "It speaks well of you, that you put aside your feud with the Vulcans in the face of this Romulan threat."

"Quite so," said Soval, and Evans nodded his agreement.

"And I am here," said Trip, "because you wish me to be part of this effort, Highness. How may I help?"

"You will captain this crew and this ship, Commander Tucker."

Trip was stunned, and reached out to T'Pol. There was no surprise in her. She knew, the Vulcan vixen! And she'd kept it a secret from him, which annoyed him. Her end of the Bond exuded amusement at his frustration with her.

"Highness, I am an engineer."

"You were third in the chain of command of the Enterprise. Surely you've had both, command and tactical training."

"Yes, but the Enterprise was a ship of exploration, so my tactical training was minimal, and we are speaking now of a ship of war."

"Do not let that concern you, Commander Tucker," said Talrood, who glanced at Admiral Ryan.

Ryan said, "You've been promoted to captain, Tucker. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir."

"You needn't worry, Captain Tucker," said Talrood. "You will be properly supported in your new role."

"Thank you, Highness."

"Now to business," said Talrood. "Your brand new ship is undergoing its shakedown trials, which should take another 2 weeks. Once those trials are completed you will have the honor of naming the ship."

"I can choose any name?"

"Yes, Captain."

"May I also have her painted?"

"Certainly. What do you have in mind?"

"The ship will clearly be of Andorian make, but I wish to paint it a Vulcan red and name it Ares. The Human name of a god of war. Thus the ship will have the mark of all three peoples upon it."

Talrood thought for a moment, and smiled.

"I like it, Captain Tucker," said Talrood. "It will be so."

"One last thing, your Highness."

"Yes, Captain?"

"The Enterprise has been boarded several times and our small security contingent was inadequate, so we had to rely on creative solutions. May I ask that you add thirty Imperial Guards to my crew in order to repel boarders, or be available for unusual missions."

"The crew of an Andorian battlecruiser of that class, is roughly ninety. Living quarters would be pretty cramped with thirty additional crew members," said Talrood, "but I like your proposal."

"The engineering crew could easily convert a cargo bay in order to accommodate those extra Guards. Even better, given the height of a typical cargo bay, we could build a loft for their bunks, while leaving the floor area an empty space in which they might conduct their combat training. "

"Sound idea. You will have those Guards. Speaking of which, I hear you and Lieutenant Reed have spent most of your stay on Andoria training with the Imperial Guards."

Admiral Ryan looked surprised to hear that, but not Soval, for he had asked T'Pol how her mate was spending his days on Andoria. There was no telling how Soval felt about that fact though.

"Yes, Highness," said Trip.

"I will draw your men from that Guard detail."

"Thank you, Highness."

"A pleasure. Now, I believe T'Pol has some words for us."

T'Pol, tapped the folder beneath her hands, and said, "I have analyzed all the data which could possibly pertain to the Romulans. I have forwarded that data to the intelligence agencies of all three governments, and we all generally agree with each other.

"The Romulans started operations in this sector four to six months ago. They've been attacking and destroying merchant ships for the majority of that time. However, last month, we believe they are responsible for the disappearance of two Vulcan science vessels in addition to three merchant ships. This month we have lost four merchant ships and a military scout vessel. We have been concerned about these rising losses, but had not idea what was taking place, until the attack on the Kumari.

"The Andorians have lost eight merchant ships, several automated meteor mining ships and five comm satellites, this month alone. The attack on the Kumari is a sign that the the Romulans have analyzed our responses and are ready to move on to bigger targets. All three governments have implemented the changes Captain Tucker and I suggested in order to retaliate against further attacks on military ships. So far, no such attacks have been reported, so we can not judge how effective our suggestion, but I do not think we will have to wait long. We may wish to bait an attack, in order to judge the outcome. I do not like it, but it is logical to consider it at least."

"Thank you, T'Pol," said Talrood. "Ambassador Soval."

"We have all agreed that once the Romulans initiate open warfare, each member of this alliance will freely traverse each other's territory. Andorian battleships may well find themselves fighting Romulans in Vulcan space or Earth's Sol system, while Vulcan ships may well be defending an Andorian colony or Earth itself. For now though, we will confine ourselves to our normal operating theaters so that we do not tip off the Romulans to the fact that we are working together.

"Additionally, in a bid to stall for time, Vulcan and Andoria will begin to exchange increasingly hostile diplomatic chatter over open comm channels. We hope that the Romulans will believe their plan to initiate a war between our peoples is succeeding and thus avoid open warfare, buying us more time to prepare.

"We need this time to upgrade StarFleet's vessels, which are technologically inferior to Vulcan, Andorian, and probably Romulan ships. Human vessels will be upgraded with shields, better sensors and better engines. These upgrades will be largely carried on at the Jupiter shipyards, though we can do about ten percent of them faster in our Vulcan shipyards without arousing Romulan suspicion, as StarFleet vessels often visit Vulcan."

"Thank you, Ambassador Soval," said Talrood. "Admiral Ryan."

"With the new technical data we've received from both Vulcan and Andoria," said Ryan, "we are looking at building new classes of ships, with all the advancements built in, but it will take 18 to 24 months to see these new models leaving space dock. We are boosting recruitment in a low-key manner given that it takes about eight months to turn a rookie into a 2nd class crewman."

"As are we," said Soval, who looked at Talrood.

"Ships will be more of a limitation for us in a protracted war, than personnel," said Talrood, "but we will speed production as much as possible."

"May I ask how many ships we have in our respective fleets," said Trip, "and the quality of these ships?"

"Andoria has thirty 1st tier battleships, two hundred 1st tier battlecruisers," said Talrood, "a hundred and fifty 2nd tier frigates and about three hundred 3rd tier destroyers.

"Vulcan has one hundred and ninety 1st tier battlecruisers, three hundred 2nd tier frigates and two hundred or so 3rd tier escorts, " said Soval. "We have no battleships as such."

"By those standards we can bring about a hundred and fifty ships of 3rd tier at the moment," said Ryan. "After upgrading those ships, which will take a year or more for all those ships, plus the ships we have in the construction pipeline now, we will have two hundred 2nd tier ships. The new models due out in two years or so will all be 1st tier, integrating Vulcan or Andorian technology as works best."

"Any guesses on the size of the Romulan fleet?"

"None," said T'Pol. "As you know from our encounter with them, they are extremely secretive. No one knows exactly where they are from, what they look like or the nature of their goals, though conquest seems a logical motive for their actions."

"That mystery should be dispelled once open warfare begins," said Talrood. "Captured ships, even ship wrecks, will yield technical data on their weapons, engines, shields and cloaking device. Corpses will tell us what they look like, and their navigational data and computer cores will tell us their origin and perhaps their goals."

"We need to capture one of their ships with its engineering section largely intact, in order to get our hands on one of their cloaking devices," said Trip. "It will be integrated with their engines, and with that device in our hands, we can choose to duplicate it, or we can learn its limitations and ways to detect a cloaked ship, or both."

"Here's hoping," said Ryan.


	16. Chapter 16

**—Chapter 16—**

* * *

Captain Lirahn of the Imperial Star Navy was on the hunt. His ship, VrillAs, had racked up five kills so far in the past month and he intended to get another very soon, for he was following a damaged Andorian ship of war. It was a smaller class than the Kumari which he'd almost destroyed not long ago, but he wanted this one badly for it was still a formidable ship and it would constitute an honorable kill. Let other captains and lesser ships, brag of killing defenseless cargo haulers and merchants, the VrillAs would go after proper trophies while he was in command.

And so the VrillAs had tracked this Andorian ship for the better part of an hour now, for its warp drive was malfunctioning and that malfunction had shown up clearly on the VrillAs' sensors, drawing hunter and prey together now as the Andorian barely limped along at Warp 1.1... and as the VrillAs had closed in on the Andorian ship, captain Lirahn noticed clusters of burn marks on the hull. Most other captains would have attacked by now, for like all good Romulans they were aggressive and driven, but Lirahn was something more, for he'd survived many battles which lesser men had not due to his patience.

"Tactical, report," said Lirahn.

"Sensors are clear all the way out to long range, sir," said the tactical officer.

Lirahn nodded, pleased now. Although ships could be concealed and ambushes set despite the best sensors, through the clever use of spacial anomalies and the utilization of planetary bodies for concealment, the Andorian ship was traveling in open space now, with no such possibilities to their allies.

"Comm channels are clear," said the tactical officer, indicating that the Andorian ship was not in communication with anyone. "I detect forty six life signs, sir. All Andorian."

"Forty six," said Lirahn, for that would be a skeleton crew for a ship this size.

The Andorians must have suffered heavy losses during the attack which had damaged this ship, and Lirahn was curious as to the identity of these attackers , for he knew that no Romulan ship had reported making such an attack. Perhaps this meant that the rhetoric between the Vulcans and Andorians which had heated up lately, had broken out into warfare. If so, that was welcome news.

Well, thought Lirahn, let's add some more fuel to the fire.

"Status," said Lirahn.

"We are read for battle," said the tactical officer, a grin on his face.

Lirahn nodded, then said, "Attack."

The Romulan attack and the Andorian response, were both successful, or not, depending how one chose to view the results, and the sequence of events which followed was an inevitable dance of death.

The Romulans decloaked and initiated weapons fire, and even as their disruptors batteries opened fire, the Andorian's shields came online and a short burst transmission was initiated even as Andorian particle cannons opened fire, and photon torpedoes were launched toward the VrillAs a split second after the Romulan's own plasma torpedoes had launched. The Andorian's shields held up to the Romulan's disrupter fire only to collapse a moment later when the plasma torpedoes hit the shields and collapsed them, only to plow into the aft section of the Andorian ship, destroying the engineering section and half the ship along with it. Meanwhile, the Romulan ship had been, in it's turn, raked by the Andorian's particle cannon fire, and when a photon torpedoe struck the VrillAs a moment later, it tore the heart out of the VrillAs.

"Report!" said Lirahn.

"Andorians have been disabled."

"Obviously," said Lirahn, "else we would be under attack right now. Continue."

"Most of Decks 3, 4 and part of Deck 5 are destroyed," reported the tactical officer. "Weapons are off line. Damage control teams are at work."

Lirahn hit a button on his chair, and said, "Engineering, report."

"I can give you impulse drive, sir," said Chief Engineer Nveio. "Warp engines are off line. Cloaking device is off line."

"Get to work," said Lirahn.

"Yes, sir,' said Nveio.

The Andorians must have known they were being stalked, thought Lirahn, in order to respond so quickly. That meant that they'd managed to pierce the cloaking shield. That was most disturbing. C&C must know of this.

"Get me Command & Control," said Lirahn.

A moment later, the tactical officer said, "I can not, sir. The Andorian ship is jamming our transmission. I suggest we make use of our impulse drive to get clear of their jammer."

"Do so."

"Sir," said the tactical officer. "I have three ships closing on our position. Their warp signature is Andorian."

"ETA?"

"Twelve minutes, sir."

So, this had all been a trap, thought Lirahn.

"We are being hailed, sir. We are being ordered to surrender."

Lirahn's thoughts were of his wife and daughter now, for he knew that he'd never see them again.

"Options."

"None, Captain."

Lirahn sighed, and said, "You know what to do."

"Yes, Captain. It's been an honor to serve under your command."

A moment later the VrillAs ceased to exist as the Romulan self-destruct device was activated and performed its function admirably.

* * *

"Captain," said the Ares' comm officer, looking at Trip, "we have a transmission from the Emperor."

It had been six weeks since the Ares had been fully manned by a mixed crew, as desired by Talrood, and that six weeks had been a busy time for Trip, as he'd spent it all in a crash course of sixteen hour days, learning all about ship to ship combat, command, tactics and strategy, under the tutelage of Admiral Tsoi, all of which had been an eye opener. Starfleet had been organized as an exploratory corps first and foremost, and their tactical training had been adequate, but nothing compared to the Andorian Imperial Guards, which had always been a military organization, and there was a hardness and a competence to the Guards which StarFleet would need to soon acquire, given that war was in the offing, and for his part, Trip had made every effort to soak it all up during the long days and endless nights of drill and study.

"Route it to the conference room," said Trip. "Admiral, T'Pol."

The two people Trip had named headed for the conference room, even as Trip looked at Shran.

"Take the conn, XO," said Trip. "We might be in there a while."

"Aye, Captain," said Shran.

The Andorian took the captain's chair, feeling grateful to his Human Captain. Tucker had spoken repeatedly to the Emperor on his behalf, and when the Ares had been turned over to him, the Human had pressed the Emperor to appoint Shran as his Executive Officer, and although that rank was a demotion for Shran, it was still preferable to the execution he'd expected... he still recalled his Emperor's last words: "The Kumari will take some time to be rebuilt, Shran. Serve this Human well, and you may command the Kumari once again. Fail him, and you will surely be turned out onto the ice."

"I hope it's not open warfare yet," said Trip as he stepped within the conference room, "I need more work."

"You need more polish," said Admiral Tsoi looking fondly at the human, "but you've got a good base. I have already stated this to the Emperor two days past. He may simply be calling to congratulate you, Captain."

"Let's hope so," said Trip.

— He is right, sent T'Pol. You have worked hard to understand and assimilate what the Admiral had to teach and you have done very well.

— If you say so, my love, sent Trip, knowing T'Pol was too logical to deceive him about something of such importance.

— I do.

— How does Andorian military training compare to Vulcan?

— Pride prevents me from answering that question, sent T'Pol, but I find your training much more than adequate.

— Speaking of which, I'd like a few months off duty, sent Trip. I'd like to complete your training.

A mental giggle and a brush of desire was T'Pol's answer to Trip through the Bond, and a minute later the Emperor's comm stream came through, after which the Emperor summed up the purpose of his comm.

"—and so your theory was proven correct, and we have learned a few things in the process." said the Emperor.

"Among those things," said T'Pol, "is that the Romulans will not surrender or allow themselves to be taken prisoner."

"A foe we can respect," said Admiral Tsoi.

"Which means," said Trip, "that capturing a Romulan ship will be a matter of luck."

"Perhaps," said Talrood, "but we can not be certain of that. One ship does not a fleet make. We will make a few more efforts to capture a Romulan ship before we abandon that plan."

"How many Guards did we lose, Highness?" said the Admiral.

"Sixteen," said the Emperor. "We were running a skeleton crew, or we would probably have lost more."

"That is regrettable," said Trip.

"Their courage will not be forgotten, I assure you," said Talrood. "Now on to other business. The admiral tells me that you are now a fit captain for an Andorian ship of war."

"I'm sure he's just being polite," said Trip.

"Tsoi knows better than to let manners overcome his good sense," said Talrood. "A captain is responsible for the lives of his crew and the honor of his ship. I assure you, politeness is not a factor in the admiral's praise."

"In that case, I'm humbled," said Trip. "The quality of the instruction I've received from the good admiral has been top notch."

"Good," said Talrood. "On another matter, the Vulcans have taken to seeding their area with small, sensor satellites, in great quantities. We will do the same shortly, as will StarFleet. The Romulans will no doubt destroy them when they come across those satellites, but we can replace them faster than they can find and destroy them all."

"Have they yielded any useful data?" said T'Pol.

"Yes, the Vulcans report brief glimpses of Romulan movements now and then, most likely from a cloaking device which is not perfectly attuned. What is interesting is that the Vulcans believe that the more Romulan ships gathered in one space, the better our detection rate. Something about multiple cloaking devices affecting the immediate space they occupy. It will be interesting to see if that bears out in practice. Now comes the next step."

Trip looked at T'Pol, then back at Talrood.

"Next step, Highness?"

"You are close to Risa and you are to head there now. You and your crew have five days to relax, then you will proceed to these coordinates," said Talrood, and an alpha-numerical string appeared on the screen.

T'Pol did a series of quick mental calculations and said, "That is Elza's Necklace, the Risan name for that area of space."

"Precisely," said Talrood. "Tell us why that matters, T'Pol."

"Elza's Necklace is a huge asteroid field, two hundred lightyears long, fity wide, eighty deep, and the region is a desert for many lightyears on all sides due to numerous spatial anomalies."

"And why is that important?" said Talrood, a smile on his face.

T'Pol thought for a time, then said, "The privacy to be found in that region would make it a desirable place for those wishing to train and instruct a disparate combination of ships, in joint fleet tactics."

"Oh, very good, T'Pol!" said Talrood. "You are correct. Once there, you will be joined by thirty-three Andorian ships, thirty-three Vulcan ships and thirty-three StarFleet vessels. We will build a joint fleet, to complete the process we began with the Ares.

"The crew and commanders of those ships will become familiar with the way the other species think," said Talrood, "the way they will react under stress, all the better to support each other in battle. Hopefully, they will also learn to trust and honor each other. If this part of the experiment is successful, we will repeat it with a new mix of ships, until we are all familiar with each other. I believe it will enhance our chances of victory."

"The StarFleet vessels will not be able to truly contribute," said Trip, more aware than any of technical limitations faced by the human vessels.

"They will do just fine," said Talrood. "The Vulcans have upgraded eighteen of those ships, and we have done the rest of your thirty-three. Those StarFleet vessels now have shields and upgraded phaser cannons and will be solidly 2nd tier, instead of 3rd. It will be your task to learn how to use them properly, Fleet Captain Tucker. Tsoi will be your adviser, but you will be in command. This was the political experiment I had spoken of not long ago. Don't make me look like a fool."

Trip knew that Vulcan and StarFleet both were desperate to have the Andorians as equal partners in the coming war, so if Talrood named him Fleet Captain, it was already so, or would be as soon as Talrood expressed the wish. Now Trip just had to prove that the Emperor's faith in him was justified.

"Yes, Highness."


	17. Chapter 17

— **Chapter 17—**

* * *

"Arrghhh, arggghghgh!" said Trip through clenched teeth, such that the noise that came from him had more in common with a rabid dog, than a man.

He snarled again, and with the burst of strength of a man possessed, ripped his pillow in half and started beating the bed with the two halves. After a time he finally stopped, panting hard, and turned to look at his mate. T'Pol watched him with amusement. Or rather, her face was largely impassive save for an almost imperceptible smile, but amusement danced on her end of the Bond. She was nude, save for a pillow she held close to her body in order to ensure its safety, but after a moment's deliberation she tossed her pillow in front of Trip.

"Do what you must, husband."

Trip started laughing, grabbed her pillow, laid down and rolled onto his back, her pillow propping his head. T'Pol slipped into bed, and after a series of minor adjustments, nestled herself into Trip.

"What was all that about?"

"The Admiral," said Trip, meaning the Andorian Admiral Tsoi, "is driving me insane."

"He is just meticulous, nothing more."

"Did you watch today's drills, T'Pol?"

"Of course I did. I watch every drill."

"Then you saw we were almost perfect," said Trip.

"Almost," said T'Pol in agreement. "But not quite."

"Close enough."

"Not for the Admiral, Trip."

"No, not for him," said Trip with a sigh.

They'd been running fleet drills, planning tactics, holding meetings, discussing logistics and a million other things that went with running the Black Wind Fleet for the past twelve weeks and the site which Talrood had chosen, Elza's Necklace, named for the countless asteroids in that chain, was perfect for that task and those drills. One drill in particular which everyone seemed to enjoy, save the Vulcans who naturally pretended they were above feelings, was the Andorian Iron Circle.

In the Iron Circle, the Ares was the center of that circle, whilst the sixty-six heavy battlecruisers, half Andorian, half Vulcan, assumed orbit around the Ares in a set of computer controlled coordinates. From that fairly compact shape, these battlecruisers unleashed hell in the form of a withering fire. Sixty-six battlecruisers made for three hundred plus particle cannons and phaser cannons firing per second, in addition to the two hundred plus proton torpedoes launched every three seconds by these ships.

The kind of firepower displayed by the ships in the Circle had been unimaginable to Trip before this assignment, and that firepower reduced the selected asteroids to dust each time Admiral Tsoi instructed them to head into the midst of those asteroids. The thirty-three StarFleet ships were not left out of the equation either, for they had a place in the circle in order to increase its firepower even more, if that circle was not under attack. If the circle was under attack, the battle-cruisers would rely on their shields to absorb the damage, whilst the smaller, more agile StarFleet vessels ran interference by counter-attacking the enemy in order to protect the integrity of the circle.

As for such exercises, the Vulcans considered them too reckless to pursue, while StarFleet would not even authorize them, but this was a unique fleet, with a unique mission and a heavy Andorian influence, and if some of the ships had to limp back to home base now and then for repairs, well, that was a small price to pay for combat efficiency as Admiral Tsoi saw the matter. In any case, that number was reduced substantially as the fleet gained experience, and the Humans learned the mobile warfare the Andorians assigned to smaller ships of their class.

Looking at the clock now, Trip figured it was getting close to their bedtime. The sixteen hour days they were running called for a strict discipline in order to be tolerable, so he slid out from under T'Pol, stood and stretched.

She looked up at him, and said, "Are you going for a snack? Because if you are, I will take a brownie, please."

"I'm just getting a new pillow, sweets," said Trip, pressing a comm button to contact his steward.

"Yes, sir," said the steward a moment later.

"Be good enough to bring me a pillow, crewman."

"Yes, sir."

"I have some good news for you," said T'Pol.

"What's that?"

"Malcolm is coming back soon. And he's a Lieutenant-Commander now."

"You don't say."

"Yes. He played some role in aborting an assassination plot against Talrood. As StarFleet places great store on Andoria and Talrood during this time, a promotion seems well deserved."

"Wow. I'll have to ask him of it. I don't suppose you know what else he's been doing on Andoria? Other than bedding Lieutenant Talas with disturbing frequency, I mean."

"Yes, you should talk, Captain," said T'Pol, "for it is not like you have taught me things that would make an Orion slave girl blush… Oh, wait, you have."

Trip laughed, and said, "Was that a joke? Because if it was you should stop now."

"Vulcans do not joke, Captain. You should know that by now."

"And you should know, my dear T'Pol, that the Crimson Arts of the Tucker's have various levels. I have revealed the opening moves. You are not yet ready for the advanced levels."

"Advanced levels, Captain?" said T'Pol, unsure if Trip was serious, or not.

"Yes, wife. These powers are passed on from father to son, generation after generation. You'll know we are approaching those exalted levels when you have trouble meeting my eyes the morning after one of our experiments. At the highest levels we will not be able to look each other in the eye for months, perhaps years."

"That sounds most distressing, Trip!"

"It is a price you will willingly pay for ecstasy beyond your comprehension."

"So you say," said T'Pol, wide-eyed now.

The Vulcan was doubtful of the veracity of her mate's claims, but determined to research the matter on their very first trip back to Earth. On the other hand, Trip's mastery of such esoteric arts would explain much of his undeniable attraction where females were concerned. Females like that reptilian tramp which had impregnated Trip not all that long ago, or that sleazy princess with the lovely hair which T'Pol had fantasized of pulling and pulling until that female understood clearly that Trip was her property! Or what of those Risan twins that… No, this was fruitless contemplation. She would find the truth, or the lack of it, back on Earth. But if these powers truly existed…

"In any case," said T'Pol, "I have no idea what Malcolm has been doing, but I get the feeling that he is somehow mixed up with StarFleet Intelligence as a roving operative. If that is so, he has likely been establishing ties with his Andorian counterparts."

"Maybe," said Trip, then fell silent, thinking of Malcolm.

A moment later the bell announced the steward was at the door, and Trip shuffled through the small living room that was part and parcel of the relatively luxurious quarters of a captain on an Andorian ship.

"Ah, thank you, Jenkins."

The steward gave Trip a new pillow, and Trip handed the man the two halves of his former pillow. The steward had an odd look on his face, which Trip noticed.

He said, somewhat self-consciously, "Sorry, the wife gets a little crazy in the sack."

The steward burst out in a laugh at the unexpected commentary, then said, "No trouble at all, sir."

"We're turning in now, so run wild, Jenkins."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you have to blame me for that pillow?" said T'Pol, once Trip had closed the door on the man and returned to the bedroom. "Now the rumor mill will take your torn pillow as certified proof that your Vulcan mate is an insatiable degenerate."

"Well, as a matter of fact—"

"Yes, yes, of course I know that you have corrupted me beyond redemption, but I do not want that fact to be commonly discussed, Captain. It will ruin the mystique which Vulcans have cultivated since we introduced ourselves to your people."

"Nonsense, T'Pol. I assure you, the theory that Vulcans have a deeply passionate, though well concealed, nature has been a topic of discussion on the Enterprise since we began our neuro-pressure sessions. In any case, if these rumors should be confirmed on the Ares by torn pillows, it will only increase the esteem in which the crew holds you."

"Truly?"

"Yes. Now go to sleep. You've been yawning for the past hour."

T'Pol yawned again even as Trip finished speaking.

"A quickie, did I say that right, before sleep?"

"In the morning, T'Pol. Get some rest now."

"Very well," said T'Pol, and a few minutes later she was blissfully asleep.

Trip always fell asleep after T'Pol, whether that was because he had more on his mind or that she had better mental discipline which allowed her to turn her brain off faster in order to fall asleep. Either way, Trip enjoyed this time, with T'Pol sleeping peacefully next to him, night after night. For the longest time he'd never thought such a thing would come to pass for the two of them.

He slept eventually, until close to dawn by ship's time, when T'Pol half-woke him in her accustomed manner, by licking, nibbling, tugging and pulling on things, without so much as a 'By your leave, Fleet Captain Tucker'.

Trip turned his head to look at her, yawned, and said, "It's morning already? I feel like I just closed my eyes."

"We still have two hours before our shift starts. You can go back to sleep for a bit whilst I meditate, after."

"After what," said Trip with a grin.

T'Pol threw a leg over his torso to mount him. This really was the way to start a day, thought Trip as T'Pol started moving her hips in a liquid wave, to a silent tempo, back and forth.

Surprisingly, she'd been a virgin when they first began their relationship and as unsure as a newborn colt, but Vulcans were nothing if not perfectionists and through study, meditation and hard work she'd become more skilled than an Orion dancer, incidentally a skill she cultivated after Trip had pointed out that a Risan belly dancer's hypnotic movements instilled skills that transferred easily to the bedroom. Truly, thought Trip as T'Pol started picking up her tempo, she made life worth living.


	18. Chapter 18

**—Chapter 18—**

* * *

The Admiral, the captains and senior officers of every ship, save the Griffon who was undergoing some repairs on Vulcan, were getting the latest intel update from Talrood, who was paying a diplomatic visit to Vulcan, the first of its kind.

"—so as we suspected, the Romulans have adapted. They've begun attacking military ships in pairs since our last intel briefing. We, and by we I mean all three of our species, have increased our numbers as well. Andorian ships travel in groups of three now, Vulcans and StarFleet vessels in small groups of four to eight ships. If the Romulans increase their numbers to match ours I believe our sensor nets will begin to pick them up, much better than now.

"Cargo ships now need an armed escort to give them a decent chance of safety, which tells us the Romulans have increased their numbers in this sector, even if they are spread out.

"Orions and Nausicaans are travelling freely through undefended Vulcan space. We believe that means they've made a deal with the Romulans, for we haven't come across any wreckage to indicate they've been attacked.

"What about Andorian space, Highness," said Trip. "Your territory borders Vulcan's on one side."

Talrood laughed, and said, "Orions and Nausicaans stay well out of Andorian space."

"That is not surprising," said T'Pol for the benefit of all Humans watching this briefing, "for the Imperial Guards destroy Orion Syndicate and Nausicaan ships out of hand if they come even close to Andorian space, and they often organize raids into Orion Syndicate and Nausicaan space whilst training new Guards. Andoria will not have any troubles with either of those two species, though Earth's Sol system might, soon enough. I am certain that StarFleet has been apprised of the threat these two species could pose."

"T'Pol is right," said Talrood, "and Earth has been warned by Vulcan of these dangers, as well as advised by Andoria on the proper way to meet that threat. Speaking of which, StarFleet has requested that Andorian military advisors teach at the Academy and advise senior officers on facing threats they've not dealt with before. Two more items of interest. First, Vulcan science vessels have launched probes from the location of the minefield in which the Enterprise first made contact with the Romulans. The Vulcan ships warp in, release dozens of probes which are nothing more than an engine and a transmitter, then they warp out, only to repeat the process with another ship, and another, covering as many vectors as possible. There were two hundred some probes launched so far. With any luck some of those probes will give us information on the Romulans."

"How fast are these probes?" asked T'Pol.

"Warp Two," said Talrood. "So I admit that we might have to wait months before we get anything, but it was an excellent idea nonetheless."

"Lastly, I have some interesting news affecting this fleet. A Tellarite cargo ship captain asked to speak to someone of importance. He was interviewed and his information was considered interesting enough to bring him to my attention, interesting enough for me to dispatch some Guards to capture an Orion ship and its crew, alive.

"After a through interrogation, a Guards detail remained aboard the Orion ship and diverted it to the coordinates given me by the Tellarite captain. Once there, they found a Romulan shipyard in orbit around an unremarkable class D planet. We got this footage."

A trio of ships were captured decloaking by the Orion's scanners.

"The two smaller ships are Birds of Prey," said Talrood, "according to the Orions, that larger ship is called a Warbird. The Orion ship was ordered to leave the system immediately by the Romulans, but not destroyed, which confirms our suspicions of an alliance.

"This is where you come in, Fleet Commander Tucker. You are directed to these coordinates, and you are directed to destroy this shipyard."

"The Tellarite might be a plant, and this shipyard a trap," said T'Pol. "If there were three cloaked vessels, there are probably more."

"Quite possible," said Talrood, "so I'm keeping the Tellarite in custody until after your raid, when I will decide if he should be rewarded, or executed. Still, don't drag this out. Warp in, blow that shipyard to hell, warp out. Let enemy blood run cold."

* * *

Sixty some hours after Talrood's briefing, the Black Wind Fleet was ready for its first trial by fire.

Fifty of the Black Wind's battlecruisers dropped out of warp well outside the shipyard's sensor range, moving forward on full impulse drive. Each ship carried a curious payload beneath its belly in the form of dozens of large asteroids, all held securely in place by tractor beams. This was Trip's idea and although its effectiveness was not proven, it seemed promising to a number of the captains. As a unit, the fleet released its stony payload in the direction of the shipyard, the asteroids traveling at some eighty-thousand miles per hour. They could have been propelled even faster, but there was a matter of delicate timing involved here.

"Remember," said Trip on fleet-wide comm, "we want to be close behind those asteroids, but not too close. Follow the same vector as the asteroids and let Ares set the pace. Blast everything to hell and follow the trajectory of the asteroids on the way out as well. Do not deviate from that course."

* * *

Captain Belhrant of the Imperial Star Navy was in his ready room when he received a terse request to appear in the Situation Room. It took but a moment for him to do so.

"Report," said Belhrant.

"We have a hail of large asteroids heading directly for this station, sir. Speed is estimated at eighty-three thousand miles per hour."

"How many?"

"Eighteen-hundred, or so, sir."

Belhrant cursed. This was no natural occurrence, of that he was sure. The shipyard was shielded, of course, but that many fast moving asteroid strikes, traveling at that speed would easily overload the shield generators.

"How many ships on patrol?"

"Six, sir."

A larger number of ships might have a chance of destroying this hail storm, but not six. This station relied largely on a bubble of invisible mines for protection, so he was lucky to have even those six ships.

"Tell the ships to move away from the station and open fire on the asteroids."

"Yes, sir."

"Shields to full. Next, bring up our weapons and target all incoming asteroids as soon as they're within range. Get in touch with—"

"Sir, I have Vulcan and Andorian ship-signs behind the meteors. Fifty."

What happened next was an awesome sight to see, from the deck of the Ares. The asteroids impacted upon a swath of invisible mines, initiating detonation, which created more fast moving shrapnel from exploded mines and asteroids alike, which in turn initiated more explosions.

Three or four hundred asteroids were expended in overcoming this initial defensive barrier and then the rest began to strike the shipyard's shields. Only a hundred or so asteroids were required to overload the station's shield generators and the rest of that rocky rainstorm plowed into the station and the shipyard and then through it, ripping it to metal shreds, before continuing on through the back side of the minefield. The angered Romulan ships had to decloak to open fire on the battle-cruisers, and in doing so exposed themselves to counter-fire.

"Initiate photon torpedo bombardment," said Trip. "Wide dispersal pattern, high yield."

Hundreds of photon torpedoes began blanketing all areas outside of the alliance convoy of ships, just in case some other Romulan ships remained cloaked out there, and it was only a matter of time before six Romulan ships exploded, presumably along with any still cloaked.

As the battlecruisers followed the Ares through the debris of the shipyard and out the back of the minefield, a Vulcan cruiser used their tractor beam to grab what seemed to be a Bird of Prey from the wreckage. From the metal arms attached to the hull, is seemed most likely that it had been docked, and receiving repairs at the time of the attack.

"Ares to Vorlana," said Trip.

"Yes, Fleet Captain," said the Vulcan captain, Te'Mers.

He addressed the human respectfully, not only because it was proper and logical, but also because this human's unconventional plan had allowed them to achieve their objective with ease and minimal damage. This one would bear watching.

"I'm sure you realize that if that ship you've captured self-destructs you'll lose most of your crew and probably your ship."

"I do," said Te'Mers. "But the risk is acceptable. We need every scrap of intelligence we can get on the Romulans."

Trip could have ordered the Vorlana to release its catch, but the captain was right. Sometimes you just had to run a risk.

"Drop to the back of the pack, Captain," said Trip, "in case something regrettable happens."

"Yes, sir. Now, may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Did you know about that minefield? Nothing of it was said to us during our pre-mission planning."

"No, I didn't know about it," said Trip. "But the Enterprise dealt with Romulans before, and one of their mines almost tore our ship apart. I would not see that again, if I could help it."

"Yet you did not see fit to warn the rest of us of such a possible danger."

"To what purpose? The Ares led the way in and I took what precautions I could to safeguard our ships. Were they not adequate?"

Somewhat grudgingly, for Te'Mers would have still appreciated a warning, the Vulcan said, "They were, sir."

"Ares, out."

* * *

The captured Romulan ship did not self-destruct and Trip ordered the Vorlana to deliver its prize to Vulcan at best speed. He thought it proper that the crew which took the risk, should be given the honor of delivering that intelligence coup, along with a written commendation letter for the captain and crew of the Vorlana.

The Black Wind's mission was a complete success, and they were ordered to return to their training, though Admiral Tsoi recommended changing the training site, for he knew that Romulan scouts would be scouring the area after the attack on the shipyards for one was fairly close to the other. Trip agreed.


	19. Chapter 19

— **Chapter 19—**

* * *

The Vulcans had sent their congratulations on the Black Wind's unconventional success during the strike, and StarFleet was pleased that Trip had done well in his command role even though he had used no StarFleet vessels in this action. Talrood was speaking to them now, addressing the senior officers aboard every ship.

"Congratulations are in order, Fleet Captain Tucker."

"Thank you, Highness."

"Using meteors as you did, Admiral Tsoi tells me that was wholly your own doing."

"I got lucky and hit upon a good idea."

"We need luck like that on our side," said Talrood, "and it amused me that the Vulcans were flabbergasted by your actions. No offense, T'Pol."

"None taken," said T'Pol. "The odds that a Vulcan would have used that particular tactic are extremely low."

"I hope the Tellarite was rewarded, Highness," said Trip. "His information was accurate."

Talrood waved his hand.

"Impulse engine rebuilt and upgraded. Warp engine and shield generators replaced with better and the same with life support. Numerous structural repairs, though we left its appearance untouched, lest it attract thieves. The Tellerite would have worked twenty years to pay for the upgrades he received in return for his information, in addition to the tidy sum we gave him. He was well pleased."

"Perhaps we will hear from him again, or others like him, Highness," said Trip.

"I told him to spread stories of my generosity among his fellow captains and cargo haulers, while leaving himself out of those stories, for his own safety."

"Good," said Trip.

"Now on to business," said Talrood. "You've done well, Fleet Captain Tucker, so I am adding a further ten battle-cruisers to your fleet as well as forty destroyers. The Vulcans are adding ten and forty as well, so your full number now will be two hundred ships. These hundred ships, along with the Vorlana are on the way to your coordinates as we speak. Your StarFleet vessel, the Griffon, is still in space dock for another three weeks or so. It too quite a beating in the asteroid field.

"Our Romulan ship is yielding its secrets to us under study, none more important than the face of our enemy, for we found a half dozen bodies in a section of the ship that had vented its atmosphere into space," said Talrood, fiddling with some dials. "Here we go."

Talrood's face disappeared from the monitor display to be replaced by the face of a Vulcan corpse. Well not exactly, but very close, the only visible difference being that the corpse had a bony ridge above each eyebrow, growing the in the same direction as the eyebrow.

"What the fuck," said one of the human officers, aboard one of the ships partaking in this intel briefing.

Trip felt T'Pol's shock through the Bond and looked at his mate. She was white faced and gripping the mug of hot tea in her hand tightly enough that Trip worried she would break it and hurt herself. He gently pulled the mug from her hand.

"Rihansu!" said T'Pol.

"Precisely," said Talrood, his face back on the monitor. "I'm sure T'Pol can answer your questions if she cares to do so, but basically, I've been informed that when Surak brought logic to Vulcan, a percentage of the population refused to relinquish their passions. They left Vulcan in anger at what it was becoming, to start a new life, in a new place, where the old Vulcan ways could be kept alive. The called themselves the Rihansu even before they left Vulcan, which means Willful Exiles, and these Rihansu of the past and the Romulans of the present are one and the same. Did I miss anything, T'Pol?"

"No, Highness," she said, her voice hoarse. "Though I would hazard to guess they still refer to themselves as Rihansu. Romulan was a StarFleet designation for an unknown species.

"Either way," said Talrood, "the Vulcan High Council just about soiled themselves when this fact came out, but I think it's for the best that we all know this fact now, rather than having it blow up in our faces at a more critical time."

"Has it caused any problems in the alliance?" said T'Pol.

"Some loud mouthed cretins on Earth, and hard-asses on Andoria. I ordered my problems shipped to a mining colony for the duration of this war. I have no idea how Earth will handle their trouble makers.

"We are now engaged in open warfare. Since the shipyard raid, the Romulans know Andoria, Vulcan and Earth have formed an alliance, if they did not know that fact before. They have attacked a dozen colonies in the last three days, wiped three of them out. We have lost dozens of ships in combat, while causing a respectable number of casualties among them. We're all just feinting and probing now, but it will all get real very soon.

"This is the end of this intel briefing. From now on they will come on a daily basis, or as needed. Now, I wish to speak to Admiral Tsoi, Fleet Captain Tucker and Commander Shran in private."

A few moments later all connections with Talrood were severed, save the one on the Ares.

"We are private now, Highness," said Trip.

Talrood looked at the Admiral. The Andorian handed Trip a small box.

"Open it," said Talrood.

The box contained the signet ring of an Andorian Imperial Guard. It was an attractive ring of gold with a rectangular onyx face as wide and as long as the first joint of his finger, upon which the seal of the Imperial Guards was carved and filled with gold. Laying across that seal was the slender form of a stylized ice dagger, carved of some ice-blue gemstone. Trip looked at the Emperor.

"Put it on. You are now an Imperial Guard, Charles Tucker, and may call upon the Guards so long as your orders do not interfere with their duty to Andoria or the Emperor."

Trip slipped on the ring and Admiral Tsoi grasped him in the forearm grip of the Guards.

"It is good to meet you, brother," said the Admiral.

The Admiral had used the informal title with which Guards addressed each other often. The formal title was Guardsman. The Admiral had used that title because as the Guards saw it, Trip had begun a new life once the Emperor had named him an Imperial Guard.

"I should have known you'd be one of us eventually, brother," said Shran with a smile. "And you even outrank me from your first day, you pink skinned bastard."

Trip smiled, genuinely pleased. Of all the alien species he had met during his travels, he favored the Andorians, as a whole. There was something about them he found interesting, for if anything they embodied more extremes than even humans.

Take Shran for example. That Andorian could have passed for a Roman in the latter days of that corrupt empire, with everything that implied. He was cunning, calculating, always seeking advantage, yet he obeyed a strict code of duty and honor, in both his personal life and his career as a Guard.

Tsoi was a cold-blooded bastard whose entire life centered around destruction, yet he was also renowned for his poetry and though he had two young mistresses he was completely devoted to his wife, who suffered from a congenital disease that had rendered her simple-minded for the past ten years. When a relative had once suggested that Tsoi put his wife away, the Admiral had gutted the man, though quick medical aid saved the man's life, for Tsoi had purposefully avoided any major organs.

Trip's thoughts were intrerrupted when he saw Talrood turn his attention to Shran.

"Captain Tucker tells me you have been an asset since you have been aboard the Ares. I won't mince words. The Kumari is among the ships headed your way and you are once more a captain in charge of that ship. Do not let me hear it said that you lost her without firing a shot once again, Captain Shran."

"No, Highness," said Shran, face flushed a deeper blue with joy. "Thank you."

* * *

Trip was in his ready room, looking at the additional ships Talrood had promised. They had just arrived at this location. The door chimed and drew Trip's attention.

"Enter," he said.

"Lieutenant-Commander Reed, reporting for duty," said Malcolm, standing proudly before Trip in his ready room.

"At ease, you limey bastard," said Trip with a smile. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you, mate," said Malcolm.

He and Trip were friends and although Malcolm observed strict protocol on duty, their genuine affection for each other allowed for a more relaxed atmosphere in private. Almost dying together in that tin box that passed for a shuttle had brought them together quickly.

"How is the charming Lieutenant Talas these days, Malcolm?"

"I don't know," said Reed. "I haven't seen her for weeks. She was tied up with overseeing the upgrades to tactical during the last stages of the Kumari's rebuild and I was off on my own adventures. I hope she's on the Kumari."

Trip knew for a fact that Talas was indeed on the Kumari, having seen her earlier, when he and Shran took a tour of the Andorian's refurbished love.

"You didn't come on the Kumari?"

"No, the Slijka. Listen, Trip, perhaps we could get together later, but I'd like to take a quick look at Tactical."

"You mean you haven't yet?"

"I just boarded the Ares, Captain," said Malcolm, noting Trip's irritation.

"You are confined to quarters until morning, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Sir, if I may—"

"Dismissed."

Malcolm saluted and left the room, puzzled at Trip's sudden change in demeanor. A moment after Malcolm cleared the room, Trip got Chef on the comm.

"Yes, sir."

"Chef, would you kindly put together something of a picnic basket for two people. Mix Human and Andorian foods and throw in two bottles of sake. Andorians like sake. Have someone deliver it to the shuttle bay, for a Lieutenant Talas, and have him wait there until she's aboard the Ares to make sure she gets the basket."

"Yes, sir."

Trip reached out to his comm officer and had the man route a call from him to Lieutenant Talas aboard the Kumari.

"It's good to see you again, brother," said Talas, "or should I say, Fleet Captain?"

"Ugh. Just call me Trip in private. Fleet Captain is too pretentious."

"I agree. What can I do for you, Trip?"

"You're to report aboard the Ares. Now. I want you to consult with Malcolm about our tactical situation."

"Gladly," said Talas with a smile, her antennas dancing. "He's on the Bridge?"

"He's in his quarters."

"Oh?" said Talas, one antenna rigid now, the other spinning a lazy circle.

"You are to take whatever time is needed to fully grasp the tactical situation, Lieutenant Talas. Grasp it tightly, Lieutenant, pull on it, wrestle with it… the tactical problem, that is, even if it takes all night. Am I understood?"

"Yes, brother," said Talas with her charming, lopsided, grin.

She understood.

"If you should feel the need to consult with Malcolm again on other occasions, you may invoke my name to leave the Kumari and board the Ares, as circumstances allow."

Talas was laughing now, though she held it together long enough to give Trip a proper Guard's salute before logging off.

* * *

"I just saw Lieutenant Talas in the hallway," said T'Pol as she entered their quarters and saw Trip already there, pouring himself an iced coffee.

"Good for you, kitten."

"She said, 'Thank Trip for my present', and tapped the box she was carrying."

"Yeah, so?"

"So when did Lieutenant Talas start calling you Trip, Captain?"

"She's called me Trip before. When we were staying at Shran's place."

"No, she didn't. She called you Commander at Shran's."

"Ok, then she started calling me Trip today," said Trip, plopping himself on the couch, drink in hand.

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. And what 'present' did you give her?"

Trip was tempted to say, a baby, but he knew that would be equivalent to signing his own death warrant.

"Are you seriously getting jealous over Talas?"

Trip started laughing and T'Pol straddled his lap, placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You like to laugh a lot, Captain. You should be more careful. You could choke to death while laughing, especially if I put my dainty hands around your throat and squeeze and squeeze," said T'Pol as she brought her hands to Trip's throat and caressed it gently.

He might have been worried by the words of a poker faced T'Pol with an eerily intense look in her eyes, had he not sensed her amusement through the Bond. She was toying with him.

"I swear, there's nothing going on between Talas and I."

"Talas? Or Lieutenant Talas?" said T'Pol sharply, and this time Trip sensed an undercurrent of jealousy.

"Vulcans should not indulge in jealousy, T'Pol," said Trip. "It's definitely unbecoming a paragon of logic, such as yourself."

Truthfully, though, he found it cute that she still felt jealousy: they were Bonded after all which was an iron-clad guarantee of loyalty, both ways, for no other pleasure could match the intimacy of the Bond, though apparently a small part of T'Pol believed that he could be seduced, given his track record with alien females.

"Vulcans do not feel jealousy, Captain. Understand that," said T'Pol, knowing Trip could feel her lie through the Bond, but still feeling the need to deny it verbally. "You just remember that I belong to you, and you belong to me."

She kissed him, then said, "You belong to me."

* * *

The next morning Malcolm rolled into Trip's ready room brimming with life and joy, as he always did after a night with Talas. Just for laughs Trip had the comm officer get a hold of Talas. She looked as if she'd been hit by a truck, eyes red, antennas drooping.

"What the hell happened to you, Talas?"

"Some fool tempted me with two bottles of sake," said Talas, scowling at Trip. "Perhaps he didn't know that Andorians are fond of sake."

"And perhaps he did," said Trip. "You don't look like you got much sleep, either."

"If I slept more than twenty minutes sleep last night," said Talas, eyeing Malcolm with a jaded eye, "I'm a Tellarite sow. How are you this morning, Lieutenant-Commander Reed?"

"Feeling good, my beautiful Andorian princess."

"Ugh, you're annoyingly cheerful, Malcolm. I have to be on duty in twenty minutes," said Talas, who swept back her left antenna and logged off abruptly with a sigh.


	20. Chapter 20

**—Chapter 20—**

* * *

Space, from Earth to Andoria, was the setting for a ruthless game of cat and mouse in the three weeks that passed since the Black Wind's attack on the Romulan shipyard. This was a game in which mistakes were luxuries neither side could afford, and as if there were not enough variables already, it was reported that the Romulans were wooing the Klingons to join the fight, offering them Earth as their booty and promising peace between the Klingon Empire and the Star Empire. Archer and the Enterprise, who had some experiences with the Klingon High Council were dispatched to Kronos, the Klingon homeworld, to induce them to join the alliance, or at the least to remain neutral. Just as disturbing was news that the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids who had left the Xindi Council were being courted by Romulan diplomats to join their cause and promised a new home world in return for their service.

The Vulcans had made some advances in detecting Romulan ships despite their cloaking device, for they took the billions of bits of data the sensor nets of the alliance collected daily and fed that data through their computers to produce a clear picture of Romulan movements on a grand scale. They were still blind on the smaller, tactical scale, for it took time to analyze data, but at least they knew which regions contained Romulans and which did not, and they could estimate Romulan numbers pretty accurately. The Vulcan probes launched months ago by the Vulcans paid off by roughly deliniating Romulan space as well as transmitting information on a number of Romulan colonies, mining operations, space stations, ship yards, etc… although none of the probes survived once they entered the system containing the Romulan home worlds.

Invisible mines seeded by cloaked Romuland ships were a deadly threat, but space was so vast that Romulans could not seed anywhere enough mines to win that way, for now all alliance ships, military and civilian never followed the same course twice. This was largely a Vulcan and human problem for the Andorians had found a cure for that problem, which neither the Vulcans nor the humans were willing to adopt.

When the Andorian passenger liner, Selnia, struck a mine and exploded, taking with it three thousand Andorians and two members of the Imperial Family, Talrood dispatched seventy battle-cruisers to Romulan space. Once there they destroyed five colonies, a dozen mining operations and a military shipyard, all while avoiding or beating back Romulan pursuers, and leaving just enough survivors at each of the sites struck to notify the Romulans that the Andorian Emperor requested and required that the Romulans should stop seeding Andorian space with mines, and should remove the mines already placed there. It must have been a bitter pill to swallow for the Romulans, but they were complying, for now, given that the Andorians had achieved most of their goals and brought back some impressive sensor telemetry of Romulan space, despite losing two dozen battlecruisers in the process. Romulans, being what they were, had no desire to fight a defensive war, and more so, had no desire to see their own terrain devastated.

Given that the Black Wind had doubled in size and there was the matter of integration to work on, training resumed on a 24 hour cycle now. The Admiral trained the alpha crew of all ships for twelve hours, and Trip trained the beta crew of all ships for the next twelve hours. They returned often to the meteor fields for live fire exercises, but never stayed there, or any other place for too long, for if they were not training they were dropping out of warp to conduct patrols in which the two hundred ships of the Black Wind spread out over millions of miles, like a fishing net sweeping everything in its path.

Attacks on the fleet were largely ineffective for Romulan tactics depended on stealth for their effectiveness and it was difficult for Romulans to decloak and open fire, when dozens of ships were close enough to attack and destroy the Romulan attackers immediately. Damaged alliance ships or cargo haulers were protected and escorted to safe haven. Orion Syndicate and Nausicaan ships were boarded, slaves freed, crews interrogated then dumped off on a rough and primitive world named simply XT88a by the Vulcan star charts, to live or die, though the Andorians wished to simply execute them all and be done with them. Freed Vulcan slaves of the Orions were all returned to Vulcan under strict supervision for deeper interrogation and mind probes to establish the fact that they were truly Vulcans and not Romulan spies.

Regardless of those measures, Romulan spies had indeed found their way onto Vulcan, most likely using fake documentation and brought to Vulcan by passenger liners, cargo haulers and merchant ships. Once there they stayed active, for Vulcan military commanders, politicians and high ranking priests and psychics were assassinated, monuments to Surak destroyed, ancient documents speaking of the Rihansu were stolen, industrial sites sabotaged and a thousand other acts deemed possible by focused, fearless, minds commited to the subjugation of Vulcan.

The Vulcans, though creatures of logic that they had largely become, did not take all this quietly. Trained undercover intelligence and military officers scoured Vulcan for the slightest sign of Romulan spies, while mind sensitive Vulcan priests moved peacefully through the crowds, subtly notifying the authorities when they touched the thoughts of minds as different from a Vulcan, as a Klingon's mind from a human's. If these spies were captured alive, mind melds were forced upon them and more spies captured or killed.

The Romulans whose minds were broken in the process of interrogation were loaded into captured Orion ships and set on course to Romulan space with a beacon which informed the Romulans they had comrades aboard, all in order to terrify the Romulans. While at first such ships were boarded and help was attempted, once the Romulans discovered that there was nothing to be done for such mind-damaged men, the Orion ships were simply destroyed as they showed up and this fact was confirmed by telepaths who maintained mental ties with the damaged Romulan spies until their ships were destroyed. No one was foolish enough to believe that the Romulans could be pressured into a truce using prisoners as leverage, after took place.

Earth had been untouched so far, though no one doubted their time would come. The Romulans simply wished to deal with the more capable, more dangerous members of the alliance first. That did not mean that the entire system was untouched though, for the Mars shipyards were destroyed and the Jupiter shipyards damaged by a large Romulan raid, despite the aggressive defense posed by armed sattelites and a hundred in-system ships though at least they managed to inflict heavy losses on the Romulans.

Two of the damaged Romulan ships did not self-destruct for whatever reason, and StarFleet was now evaluating Romulan disruptors, plasma torpedoes and engines for possible inclusion into StarFleet's arsenal. One cloaking device was kept on Earth, the other shipped to Vulcan, so that scientists might study the devices and figure out a mechanism to pierce their veil. It was decided by all members not to waste resources on duplicating the cloaking device on the assumption that the Romulans themselves would be able to pierce the cloaking veil given to their complete knowledge of the device and its limitations.

It was with these events taking place in the background that Trip's comm officer, an Andorian female named Lisfar, turned to face Trip, antennas rigid.

"Sir, I have an open hail on multiple frequencies."

"Put it up," said Trip, meaning that Lisfar should play it over the Bridge's audio-video display.

"I believe you will want to take this in your ready room, sir, " said Lisfar, and every Bridge officer sensed her agitation, including T'Pol, who sometimes missed such things.

"Is the comm directed to the Ares or the entire fleet?" said Trip, for the latter would be most unusual.

Admiral Tsoi walked on deck and nodded to Trip.

"I believe it's just being broadcast openly, in every direction."

"Put it up."

"This is Admiral Selas, head of the Vulcan Defense Force," said a dignified looking Vulcan, "and I am transmitting an urgent call for assistance to all Vulcan and all alliance ships of war. Our sensors have detected up a great gathering of Romulan ships on the way to Vulcan at high warp. We anticipate an attack upon our planet by a fleet of roughly twelve to fourteen hundred Romulan ships within three hours if they maintain current course and speed. We request urgent assistance from all alliance ships close enough to render us assistance."

The video feed of the Admiral was replaced by the video feed from one of the Vulcan battle-cruisers. It showed Vulcan in the background. In the foreground it displayed a massive red line of Vulcan ships, twenty miles high, three hundred miles wide. with another few dozen or so smaller ships rising from the planet's surface to take their place on the line. Naturally, such a line had many gaps, but such was its purpose, for it allowed room to maneuver if needed, yet still maintained enough cohesion to come together if needed.

"Malcolm," said Trip, "get me a count."

Lieutenant-Commander Reed triggered a sub-routine with the push of a button.

"Four hundred and seventy two ships on screen now, sir," said Reed.

"That number will likely increase some all the way up to the last minute," said Admiral Tsoi, "as latecomers take their place on the line."

"Sir," said Lisfar, "we are being hailed by numerous ships in the fleet. Ninety-three and counting."

"Make a fleet-wide announcement. 'Receiving more information now. Prepare for battle and await my orders."

"Are we at full strength?" said Trip to T'Pol.

"All but the Griffon, who is still awaiting a new warp drive."

"Lisfar, see if you can raise Captain Hanshiro," said Trip, speaking of the Griffon's captain, "then notify the Black Wind we will set course for Vulcan at warp 3, on my mark."

"Yes, sir."

— That is not fast enough to reach Vulcan in time to take our place on the line, Captain.

— I know, T'Pol.

T'Pol nodded. She suspected Trip had at least the beginnings of a plan, so she was content. She tweaked her end of the Bond, and Trip felt T'Pol hug him from behind and rest her head on his back for a few moments.

— What you are doing for my people, husband, I have no words…

— None are needed, my love.

"Sir," said Lisfar, "we are getting hails from the Vulcan ships in our fleet to confirm our speed."

"Tell them to clear the board if all they want to discuss is our speed and heading."

"Yes, sir," said Lisfar. "Sir, Captain Te'Mers is hailing us."

Te'Mers was one of the senior captains, well respected. If he wanted to speak to Trip, it would be worth the Fleet Captain's time.

"Put him up."

The Vulcan Captain's face filled the large video monitor.

"Captain Te'Mers," said Trip, "what can I do for you?"

"Fleet Captain," said Te'Mers, "I just wanted to notify you that I've been fielding calls from some of the other Vulcan captains wishing to express their concerns to me, over our speed."

"I can easily imagine that," said Trip. "How did you address their concerns?"

"I told them to shut their mouths and attend to their duties. I then assured them that you would notify them when it is time to kill, or die."

"Much obliged for your support, Captain," said Trip.

"Think nothing of it, Fleet Captain Tucker. Vorlana, out."

"Sir, I have Captain Hanshiro of the Griffon," said Lisfar.

"I'll take it in my ready room," said Trip. "T'Pol you have the conn. Take the fleet to warp."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Admiral," said Trip, "please join me."

All of the Bridge officers watched the two men walk off the Bridge, then turned to look at each other. Although none of them voiced it, they all knew that although not a shot had been fired yet this day, the Battle of Vulcan had already begun.


	21. Chapter 21

— **Chapter 21—**

* * *

The emergency bunkers of the Vulcan High Command were crowded this day, despite their impressive size, packed with soldiers of every rank, priests and upper echelon politicians of every stripe and their executive assistants. They'd all gathered here at this time to witness the fate of Vulcan, for these bunkers had huge video monitors in every room in addition to the fact that from here, one had complete access to every part of the Vulcan Defense Forces.

One room alone was sparsely populated, for it was guarded. The five members of the High Command were there, as was Etrek the High Priest of Vulcan, Admiral Selas the highest Vulcan military commander along with several of his assistants there to operate the technology present in this room, and two Humans, Admiral Ryan and Admiral Taylor.

Zerlit, Talrood's Chief of Staff, entered the room just then flanked by an Imperial Guard. He gave a slight bow in deference to the Vulcans assembled in this room, then moved to stand in front of the largest monitor which displayed the Red Line, as it would later come to be known among the Vulcans.

"The Emperor will join us?" said councilor V'Rtre.

"The Emperor is taking his place on the line," said Zerlit.

"What!" said Admiral Selas. "That is madness. If he dies here today, Vulcan will be blamed for it and the alliance he has built will shatter."

Zerlit shook his head in denial of the Vulcan's words.

"If the Emperor dies here today, fighting in a battle against overwhelming odds, he will become a hero and another of his line will take his place. If he faces those same odds and survives, he will become a legend, for he is already quite popular," said Zerlit, and pointed. "There he is."

The thirty battlecruisers which traveled with Talrood on any off world trip were approaching the line rapidly, and after a graceful turn in unison, the Andorian battle-cruisers muscled their way into the formation at the place chosen by Talrood, Andorian shields pushing against Vulcan shields in some places to move aside the Vulcan ships and make room for the Emperor.

"That boy has balls," said Admiral Taylor, and he seemed ready to continue speaking when one of the Vulcan tech operators chimed in.

"We are being hailed, Admiral," he said, speaking to Selas.

Selas nodded, and the tech flipped a switch.

"Admiral Selas here. Who am I speaking with."

"Fleet Captain Geron, sir. StarFleet. Request permission to join the ranks."

"Gladly, Captain," said Selas. "We are grateful for your assistance."

The main monitor showed a fleet of StarFleet vessels approaching the line and taking a place within it, though dwarfed by the Vulcan cruisers which surrounded them on all sides.

"Geron, this is Taylor. How many in your fleet?""

"Fifty-seven, Admiral."

"Anyone else behind you?"

"Yes, sir. Another eighty ships or so are racing for Vulcan, but they won't make it in time for the opening salvo. Even so, if this thing drags out though, we'll be glad to have them."

"You got that right, Geron," said Taylor. "Carry on."

"Yes, sir."

"I have a comm for Zerlit, from the Emperor," said the comm officer.

"Put it up," said Selas, and the Emperor's face filled the monitor, at which point and everyone in the room gave some sort of bow or salute.

The Emperor looked at Zerlit.

"I've received communication from Andoria. Telgan is on his way to Vulcan with three hundred vessels, and he will be here some time tomorrow morning. I have his orders, if I should fall."

"I am listening, Highness," said Zerlit.

"If the battle is still ongoing, he is to make himself useful. If Vulcan falls, he is to conduct a guerrilla campaign against the Romulans, and deny them the chance to establish a foothold here. If Vulcan should prevail and the battle is over, he is to track and hunt what remains of the enemy fleet all the way back to Romulan homeworld if possible. If that is not possible, let him cause havoc in their sector."

"As you command, Highness," said Zerlit.

Selas nodded, for he knew from bitter personal experience that no one pressed a counter-attack as hard as the Andorians. If the Romulans should somehow lose this battle and head limping for home, few of them would ever reach Romulan space with Telgan's fleet on the hunt.

Talrood waved a hand at his comm officer and the monitor displayed the view of the line once again, a view watched by all of Vulcan, for there was nowhere to run if Vulcan fell. Modern technology made it impossible to hide from a conqueror, save for a few places like the Forge, and such places could not sustain many people due to the severity of terrain, predatory wildlife and extreme weather conditions.

The view on the main monitor shifted, as the ball passed from one Vulcan cruiser to another periodically. This angle displayed the Vulcan shipyards which had played a role in upgrading many of the StarFleet vessels here today, and something of that view caught Admiral Taylor's attention.

"What the hell… Ryan, is that a StarFleet vessel, next to the shipyards?"

"I think so," said Ryan.

"Zoom in on that ship," said Taylor, to one of the Vulcan techs.

A moment later the image of the Griffon filled the screen.

"That's the Griffon," said Ryan. "It's Hanshiro's ship."

"What's it doing there?" said Taylor.

The Vulcan tech tapped a few keys, then said, "She's awaiting a warp engine swap."

"You don't need no warp engine for an in-system fire fight," said Taylor. "Hail them."

A moment later, the Griffon's comm officer answered the hail, and said, "Griffon here."

"This is Admiral Taylor. Let me speak to Captain Hanshiro."

A moment later Hanshiro's image filled the monitor.

"Admiral," said Hanshiro.

"Son, if you're waiting for an engraved invitation to join the ranks, you're plumb out of luck," said Taylor.

"I'm obeying orders, sir."

"Who you with?" said Taylor.

"Black Wind, sir."

"That's Tucker," said Ryan to Taylor, then turned to Hanshiro. "You're saying Fleet Captain Tucker ordered you not to participate in the fighting?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'm a freakin Admiral," said Taylor, "and I'm telling you to get your ass in formation, Captain."

"Can't do it, sir. I apologize. I have a reason to be here. Griffon out."

Ryan was surprised, Taylor was angry.

"Did that son of a bitch just hang up on us?" said Taylor. "I'm gonna have that boy scrubbing toilets shortly, and Tucker right along with him."

"Has the Black Wind reported in?" said Ryan to Admiral Selas.

"No."

"They're either on the way," said Ryan, "or engaged with the Romulans on some other front. I can't see Tucker holding his fleet from this fight for any other reason."

"One third of his fleet is Vulcan," said Selas. "They would have returned on their own, in order to defend their homeworld, barring some very persuasive arguments. That makes me believe that they are indeed engaged with the Romulans, elsewhere."

"Still don't explain why Tucker ordered the Griffon to stand down," said Taylor. "But I'm gonna find out, believe that."

"How much longer?" said Ryan, looking at Selas.

Admiral Selas looked at a smaller monitor displaying a series of tables and numerical values, and said, "Ten minutes."

There was nothing more to do, but to wait now. All that could be done, had been done. As the count dwindled to seconds, every Vulcan in the room drew closer to the main monitor, and even though these were Vulcans, the tension was almost unbearable.

Right on cue, the Romulan fleet poured out of subspace like a horde of nightwings, like a wall of water from a broken dam, like a black sun exploding, a seemingly endless stream of ships rushing forward at incredible speed, some straight towards the Red Line, some climbing high to attack the line from above, some swooping down to attack the line from below and some spreading out to the left and the right, to attack the line from the flanks. Almost immediately, both sides opened fire, without the need for any commands from higher up the chain of command.


	22. Chapter 22

**—Chapter 22—**

* * *

"Report," said Admiral Selas.

"Sir, said the Vulcan tech, "I have 375 Xindi ships, 526 Orion and Nausicaan ships, and 549 Romulan ships."

That was bad news, thought Selas. The Orions and Nausicaans were second raters, but there were a the lot of them and while the Xindi were unknown to the Vulcans, the reports from the Enterprise painted the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids as dangerous enemies. Lastly, the Romulans alone almost matched the number of the allies on the Red Line, which stood at 589 ships.

Now the formation of the Romulan fleet was interesting from a tactical point as well, thought Selas. The Orions were pushed forward and clearly their function was to die, for their ships were largely cargo ships, with upgraded weapons and shields, true, but still not true ships of war. However, despite being used as cannon fodder, they still hit the line with fury, even as the left flank of the attack was carried out by Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids. Every StarFleet vessel instinctually set course directly for the Xindi, like pit bulls charging a boar. Though outnumbered four to one, they had a score to settle with the Xindi as they saw it, and hundreds of the lighter class of Vulcan ships joined the Humans, to even the odds and secure that flank.

"Get em boys," said Taylor, "get those mother fuckers!"

"Amen," said Ryan.

The Nausicaans were on the right and it was their misfortune that Talrood and his thirty escorts were on the that flank, for their tore into the Nausicaans like wolves killing rabbits, though greatly outnumbered. Two dozen Vulcan battle-cruisers and a thirty destroyers joined Talrood's ships so that the Emperor might not die against overwhelming odds, and the Nausicaans broke in short order, and turned to flee. They didn't get far, for when they tried to pass back through their own lines they were fired upon by WarBirds and utterly destroyed.

They themselves, the Romulans, had not been idle, for 300 of the smaller Romulan Birds of Prey split gracefully, half of them rising, the other half diving like screaming banshees to attack the line from top and bottom, while some 250 of the larger WarBirds spread out along the line, reinforcing weak points on their side, or causing weakness in the allied line.

"There," said Ryan, pointing out a group of some twenty Romulan WarBirds hanging back somewhat, though still lobbing plasma torpedoes and disruptor fire at the Red Line. "One of those ships is the flagship."

"I see it," said Taylor and used his laser pointer to single out one of the WarBirds. "That's the one."

"I believe that you are right, Admiral," said Selas, noting the manner in which the other WarBirds surrounded that ship, protectively. "Not that we can do anything about it right now."

"Yeah. Nothing left but the killin and the dying," said Taylor, looking at the shape of the battle.

He was right, for both sides were locked in a death struggle and soon, some combination of numbers, endurance and morale would dictate the winner. Both sides had losses in the thirty percentile range already, but the Romulans did not care that the Orions were being massacred, nor that the Xindi had lost half their number, as those deaths were irrelevant to the Imperial Star Navy. As for the Vulcans, they had no intention to surrender, given that their families were helpless on the planet below, and so they fought and died with a fanatical intensity.

"Sir," said one of the Vulcan techs, waving to Selas.

"What is it?"

"The Human ship, the Griffon. It just began transmitting sensor telemetry of the battle."

"I don't understand," said a High Councilor.

"They are sending a data set, a precise three-dimensional image, if you will, of the entire battlefield. Presumably that would allow one to choose where and how one would enter the battle field, as well as inform one on where to direct their fire."

"Sir, they have just done it again! They seem to be refreshing the information every ten seconds."

"That means the Black Wind is on the way," said Ryan. "Hail them."

"No response," said the Comm officer, after broadcasting an immediate request that the Black Wind should respond.

"Every five seconds now, sir," said the tech, visibly excited. "They're refreshing the data every five seconds!"

Selas said, "If Admiral Ryan is correct, and he may well be, they must be close, if they are not bothering to respond even knowing our plight. Very close."

"Well they'd better get here soon," said Taylor, "or we're screw—"

Just as Taylor was about to complete his sentence, his wish was granted, for the damndest thing he had ever seen dropped out of warp.

"What the fuck is that?" said Taylor, as Ryan took a step closer to the giant video display.

"That," said Zerlit, "is a variation on the Andorian Iron Circle."

And so it was.

Ares was the central point of reference which the computer had used to assign the 199 ships of the Black Wind their place, for the Griffon was on the wrong side of the battlefield and not included in the formation. The result of this was that Ares was a point in the center of the circle of steel created by 86 Vulcan and Andorian battle-cruisers, and beyond this first line of battle-cruisers lay a second such circle, composed of 113 of the smaller destroyers.

The telemetry which the Griffon had sent the Ares had allowed the Black Wind to warp in five miles in the Romulan rear, and the Ares' Comm officer opened a fleet-wide connection on his initiative and glanced at Trip, while Trip looked at T'Pol.

— This is your world, my love.

T'Pol gave him a slight nod, and said, "This is T'Pol on the Ares. Open fire."

Long hours spent training together allowed the entire Black Wind Fleet to fire as one, and they swept the line of WarBirds from left to right, then back, then back again, over and over again, at any ship within their firing solution.

Fearsome Romulan WarBirds which could shake off an attack by five or six attackers, could not shake off the combined fire of an entire fleet. Any Romulan ship touched by the line of fire broke and shattered, its burned wreckage spinning off in random directions.

There was a very simple answer to the Iron Circle and that was dispersion, but in the first sweep of the circle, forty WarBirds and a dozen Birds of Prey had been blown to hell, the Romulan minds too stunned by the ferocity of this unexpected attack to move. By the time the Black Wind began a second sweep, the Romulans began fighting back, and lost another thirty to fifty ships as a result. Only then did they begin to disperse, as did the Black Wind, but the Black Wind was fresh while the Romulans had taken damage even before this disastrous turn. The result was predictable, especially given that the allies on the Red Line put forth one last concerted push.

The Romulans broke, turned and ran, joined shortly by their Allies. The Vulcans and their allies were too battered to pursue a broken foe, but not the Black Wind. With precision borne of endless drills, the fleet turned in unison with the Ares as it pursued the remnants of the once proud Romulan fleet. At the end of it all, of some fourteen hundred ships, two hundred and thirty one made it home, mostly Orions, for the Black Wind took a morbid delight in in pursuing, and ruthlessly exterminating Romulan ships almost exclusively.


	23. Chapter 23

**—Chapter 23—**

* * *

Two months had passed since the Battle of Vulcan and much had changed.

Some twenty thousand Vulcans had died in the battle, and those who were Bound and mated were followed shortly into death by their mates on the planet below. The official mourning period had just ended, though the unofficial period would last for decades. The majority of Vulcan's fleet was damaged or destroyed, and StarFleet had lost forty-three ships and almost forty five hundred crewmen. The Andorians lost twenty-four ships and some twenty-one hundred Imperial Guards, though mercifully Talrood had survived that day.

Now, StarFleet vessels and Andorian battleships guarded Vulcan's skies, while the Vulcans worked frantically to rebuild their fleet, and it was also during this time that the first StarFleet vessels which incorporated Vulcan and Andorian technology came out of space-dock almost nine months early, and they were a thing of beauty.

As for the Romulans, no one suffered any illusions where they were concerned, for the sensor nets still detected the presence and movements of cloaked ships here and there, save that now they were also detected in Earth's solar system, as well as Vulcan's. The Romulans had taken a beating, but it was not in their nature to turn from their path, for they were the Rihansu, and they marched under the raptor's wings... for them, war was the normal state of being, peace an anomaly.

* * *

As for Trip, he'd become something of an undercover rockstar on Vulcan, for such things were still possible on Vulcan, if just barely so. Still, there was a great deal of subdued admiration on Vulcan for the poise, courage and skill which the man had displayed in the process of claiming his Vulcan mate, as well as for his choice to honor Vulcan ways even at the risk of his own life, thus even those Vulcans who considered Humans inferior to them, had to acknowledge that Commander Tucker differed from the norm.

Had that been all, it would have been enough, but he was also the Captain of the Black Wind Fleet, which broke the back of the Romulan attack on that cruel day on which Vulcan had fought for its life, and then this same man had pursued the Romulans back to their sector, waging a seven month guerrilla campaign on the Romulan's own turf, using truly novel tactics to spread an abundance of pain quite liberally amongst the armed forces of those who would destroy what many were now calling the Federation, for Talrood's vision had taken hold and become something more, as it had expanded in scope to include all peoples of good heart.

Yes, Captain Charles Tucker had won his mate in the Vulcan way, he had avenged the Vulcans who had bravely fought and died on the Red Line that fateful day, and he was partially responsible that Vulcan still stood free, and so Captain Tucker was considered an honorary Vulcan and an understated celebrity, and rightly so.

Even his mate T'Pol, who'd made a few choices which had initially caused many to question her logic, had proved herself in spades during that Romulan campaign as well, and despite her relative youth, her words now carried weight on Vulcan, even with the High Command.

* * *

"Captain," said the Ares' Comm officer. "Message from Andoria. We are being hailed by the Emperor."

Talrood had returned to Andoria after the Battle of the Red Line, but had heard in this day's communications package from Vulcan that the Black Wind had finally returned from their extended self-imposed mission in the Romulan sector.

"Put him up," said Trip, T'Pol standing next to him.

The Emperor's image was displayed and all aboard the Bridge reacted. T'Pol gave the Andorian a traditional bow for an honored ally, the Humans gave him a regulation StarFleet salute, and Trip saluted the Emperor as a fellow Guardsman.

"My Lord Emperor," said Trip, after his salute, in the most formal of greetings from Imperials Guardsman to Emperor, appropriate here, since they'd fought in battle together, and then been separated by more blood during their seven months of separation.

"It is good to see you again, Brother," said the Emperor. "You've been gone so long we'd have written you off as dead, if not for the fact that your reports kept coming in."

"We had some close calls," said Trip, "but we were lucky."

"You were good," said the Emperor. "I"ve seen the videos and sensor telemetry logs you've sent along with your reports. Some Vulcan hot dogs even compiled them into a movie that's made the rounds among the Guards, as well as StarFleet and the Vulcan Navy. That fleet of yours has made all of us proud, Captain."

"You're kind to say so, Highness. But we lost some good people as well."

"War is war," said Talrood, "and loss is unavoidable, but this sector of space is still free, largely because of those losses. Now, what's this I hear that you're leaving us, Guardsman?"

"It's only temporary, Highness. Apparently the Vulcans want to hold something of a triumph celebration for the Black Wind, and afterwards, I wish to introduce my mate to my family on Earth, but then we're coming back to Vulcan so that I can be introduced to her clan. T'Pol and I have four months of leave, so we're going to make the most of that time."

"Good," said Talrood. "You both deserve the rest."

"I plan to relieve the entire fleet of duty, once my leave begins, Highness," said Trip, "as they're all eager to see their families. It will be up to those above my rank to decide if the Black Wind should be brought together again, or not."

"Oh, it will be, Brother, I assure you," said Talrood. "You are taking the Ares to Earth?"

"T'Pol and I had thought to take a commercial liner," said Trip, "since the Ares' will be bereft a crew."

"Nonsense," said Talrood. "I will provide a temporary crew of Imperial Guards to man the Ares, while your crew relaxes."

"That's kind of you, Highness," said Trip, "as I will admit I feel greater confidence in the Ares, than any other ship."

"That pleases me, Captain. You'll have your temporary Guards in two days, even though you won't need them that soon."

"What do you mean, Highness?

Talrood laughed, and said, "Do you really think the Vulcans will allow you leave so quickly? Oh, no, you'll have to endure endless introductions, endless celebratory dinners featuring bland vegetarian dishes and highlighted by endless speeches. That's no fate for a warrior, and if I'm right, you'll soon wish you'd never left Romulan space, to return to Vulcan."

Despite herself, T'Pol smiled slightly, and said, "The Emperor is correct, Captain Tucker. Our exit from Vulcan will be neither swift, nor easy."

Talrood laughed in concert with T'Pol's words, and said, "But I will expect you and your mate to visit Andoria upon your return, Brother."

"Gladly, Highness."

"Ah, by the way, I see that you were correct about Shran. He did quite well with you in Romulan space."

"He did just so, Highness. If you look carefully you will note that it was his suicidal courage that saved the Ares at least twice, probably more."

"Then I shall see him rewarded, Brother. Go, do what you must. Enjoy yourself and relax. When you are finished, come to Andoria. Our Federation stands in danger still, and I have a mission for you and the Black Wind."


End file.
